


All We Have

by Writingwife83



Series: All We Have [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Friendship, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragedy has left the Holmes family with an unexpected charge. This is decidedly not Sherlock’s ‘area,’ and he’ll need all the help he can get. Molly Hooper turns out to be just the person he needs to show him that this new challenge can also bring them some of the greatest happiness possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majesticlolipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticlolipop/gifts), [Amalia Kensington (amaliak01)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliak01/gifts).



> Many many thanks to my cheerleader/beta reader Lexie! Not only a lovely friend, but just about the best consulting writer any author could hope for. Her suggestions were invaluable and I promise you that the fic wouldn't have come out like this if she hadn't been so helpful. :) And thanks a million to majesticlolipop for the amazing artist contributions! There are things I can never do, and art like that is one of them. So thanks for helping add that to the fic! Here's the link to her lovely work... [ Artwork for All We Have, by majesticlolipop.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5463137/chapters/12629060)

Finally, there was silence at Baker Street and Sherlock exhaled in a slow sigh as he placed his steepled fingers below his chin and shut his eyes. He opened the front door to his mind palace and walked in, almost immediately hearing his father’s booming voice echoing off the walls in the hallway. It was the sort of memory that currently couldn’t be contained in one area. This was one that needed to be constantly revisited and reviewed.

_“Your brother is dead!” He said, pointing at the two of them. “After all these years of your mother and I missing the pleasure of his company, we find that he and his wife are gone. And as a small blessing, their son, our grandson and your nephew, is alive and well! And all you two can talk about is the inconvenience?! I am disappointed in both of you! You are already betraying the trust of your brother, and he is barely cold in his grave! And no, Mycroft, you will not hire some expensive nanny full time to raise him so that neither of you need be bothered! We will all do this…together. Just as Sherrinford wanted! We will take turns, and help each other, and we will make. It. Work! That is the end of the discussion, and I’ll hear no more complaints from either of you two!”_

Sherlock’s lips pressed together in a thin line as he focused on his father’s words. Or, more accurately, he focused on the fact that his father had said anything on this subject at all. He didn’t speak up till that moment, but when he did…everyone listened. When a man who never asks for very much makes a demand that forceful, no one can deny him. Not even Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.

That didn’t mean that Sherlock liked it. It simply meant that this was how it had to be. This was what must be done.

Sherlock heard a knock on his door and called out, “come in,” without opening his eyes or lifting his head. It was the Watsons, as he knew it would be. _Typical_.

“Sherlock, my God, Mycroft just called us on his way out of town. We figured we should come right over,” John said breathlessly as he came in along with Mary who was holding baby Lizzie.

“Are you ok?” Mary asked with a fair amount of concern in her tone. “Listen, Sherlock, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Sherlock heard her walk over toward the middle of the living room and start talking in a soothing motherly voice. As she did, Sherlock carefully closed up his mind palace, saving those vital memories for another time. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned his head to see the little boy standing up in his playpen and staring over at him.

Sherlock’s eyes connected with the strikingly similar blue green ones of the little boy, and he was once again given the shocking reminder that he hadn’t imagined all of this. He wasn’t dreaming. As strange as it seemed…

This was his life now.


	2. Chapter 2

Mary peered into their room and saw John and Lizzie both dozing on the bed. She smiled to herself as she closed the door and made her way downstairs. Time for a little peace and quiet!

After she'd put the kettle on, she couldn't help but let her mind wander to Sherlock. She paced back and forth in the kitchen and thought about the great man child…who was now caring for a child. She'd voiced her concern to John, who naturally agreed that the situation was pretty dire. She had made a suggestion too, though neither man was terribly cooperative.

A few days after Sherlock assumed responsibility of his little nephew Scott, Mary had picked up on the fact that Molly Hooper was completely unaware of the situation. Molly was not the sort of friend to leave a man like Sherlock Holmes all alone with the care of a toddler which made it obvious that Sherlock hadn't talked to her. When Mary brought this up to Sherlock, she was met with an almost unintelligible grumble which had something to do with that being irrelevant. Mary couldn't have disagreed more.

When she brought the subject up to John, his concern lay with what sort of burden this would put on Molly. Although he agreed she should know, he argued that asking for her help had risks. Sherlock tended to be rude and overstep his bounds. Who was to say that he wouldn't simply drop the child in her care and take off for days?!

Mary knew better. Sherlock needed Molly Hooper right now. They needed each other, to be frank. There was a rift that had formed between the two of them ever since the whole Magnussen case started, but Mary refused to sit back for another minute and allow this distance to continue.

She sat down with her fresh cup of tea and her phone. She dialed and waited for the cheery voice to answer.

"Hi, Mary!"

"Molly, hi! Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Oh no, it's fine. I just got home from work a few minutes ago. The only thing you interrupted was my decision making about which takeaway I should settle for tonight," she said with a giggle. "How's the baby, still growing?"

"She's fine, John's fine, everything's fine," Mary got through the pleasantries and got right to business. "Actually, Molly, I was calling about Sherlock."

"What about Sherlock?" Molly's tone changed immediately. "Did something happen? Is he ok? Oh God! Is this about the Moriarty scam again?"

"No no, it's nothing like that!" Mary quickly responded. "That seems to be over and done with. All Moriarty's men who were behind that have been put away by now and I doubt there's anyone left to cause that sort of trouble. And Sherlock's fine, Molly. But you see, his brother's died and-"

"Mycroft's dead?" Molly's voice was a small squeak.

"No!" Mary rushed to correct. "No, not Mycroft, he apparently has had another brother named Sherringford who hadn't been in contact with the family for something like ten years. But last week, they all got word that Sherringford and his wife passed away in some sort of car crash."

"Oh God," Molly breathed out. "That's awful. So I take it you're calling because Sherlock isn't coping well."

"It's not so much his brother's death that concerns me. God knows, Sherlock doesn't deal well with feelings of that sort, but..." Mary paused, wanting to proceed cautiously with the bombshell she was about to drop on the unsuspecting pathologist. "You see, there's something else. Sherrinford and his wife also had a son. A sixteen month old son named Scott who wasn't involved in the accident…and they willed his care to the Holmes family."

There was silence on the other end of the phone line but Mary went on.

"Mycroft was needed abroad right away and his parents are both unable to take care of him due to some temporary restricted movement."

"So Sherlock has a baby," Molly concluded.

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"So um," Molly sounded as if she barely knew where to begin. "Mrs. Hudson must be helping him, yeah?"

Mary sighed. "Mrs. Hudson had already left on holiday with her sister when it all happened. She won't be back for another couple of weeks."

"And you and John have your own baby," Molly went on, sounding more and more concerned.

"We are helping as much as we can, of course. But I'm afraid it's not really enough. I have to be honest, Molly…it's a bit of a mess. The flat is a wreck, Scott is a wreck, and Sherlock is completely out of his depth." Mary took a deep breath, making sure to keep her voice firm to bar any argument. "Molly, I won't pretend to know everything that's happened with you and Sherlock. But I know that he needs you right now."

There was another prolonged silence on the other end and Mary cleared her throat. "I hope I wasn't wrong to call."

"Oh no!" Molly's reply was quick and firm. "Of course not, Mary. I'm glad you did. Maybe if-I wish he had told me himself, but I suppose I'm not really surprised he didn't."

Mary read between the lines and heard the things that Molly wasn't saying. She knew things weren't quite the way they used to be between the detective and pathologist.

"Molly," she said gently. "I know he needs you right now, no matter what happened in the past. And I think we both know that sometimes Sherlock Holmes just can't get out of his own way! You might need to, y'know…make the first move."

Molly's smile could be heard over the phone as she answered Mary. "Mary…I've already put my coat on."

Mary smiled and let out a relieved sigh. "You're a treasure, Molly Hooper."

"I'm happy to help, honestly. Now tell me, is there anything he needs right now that I could pick up on my way?"

Mary chuckled. "It's a long list!"

* * *

Molly trudged up the steps of 221B with a bag of groceries in one hand and a bag Indian takeaway in the other. As she neared Sherlock's door, she could already hear some sounds of fussing. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Who knows what she was about to encounter. It was best to prepare herself for anything.

She finally lifted her hand and knocked tentatively on the door.

"Just a moment!" he called out. Molly also heard him continue speaking to someone else.

"Come on! No, you can't stay there, we've got to get the door!"

Finally the door was unlatched, opened, and there stood Sherlock Holmes…holding a baby wrapped in a towel, and looking very much like he'd just been through a sudden and unexpected windstorm. Actually not just a windstorm. He was wet as well as disheveled, so it looked more like the work of a hurricane.

"Um, hi," she said, trying not to let her mouth hang open too obviously.

"Yes, can I help you?" he said impatiently. "I'm sure you can gather that I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Well I, I just wanted to come by and see how you're getting on." She tried for a bright smile, but his expression didn't budge. "And um, I'm awfully sorry about your brother."

"Yes, well I don't think he's the one to be sorry about at the moment. The rest of us who are still alive are rather worse off," he said in a biting tone.

Molly looked at the little curly haired boy who was chewing on a finger and looked like he'd been crying. He was wet as well, so it seemed she'd interrupted bath time.

"Sorry, I can see I caught you in the middle of bath time," she said with a laugh and a smile at the baby. "Maybe I could just pop in for a moment and set these things down. I told Mary I'd bring you some things to save her the trip." She held up the bag.

He looked at the bag and then her again and considered this. "Right, that's fine." Sherlock stepped aside reluctantly and allowed Molly to come in.

Molly couldn't help letting out a little gasp when she walked in the flat and looked around. Apparently the hurricane had made its way through the living area as well!

"Sherlock, what happened?! Why is the furniture all shoved around? And things are just…everywhere!" she exclaimed as she sat the bags on the kitchen table, which was already full of piled up items.

"Yes, things are everywhere, Molly," he said with an irritated sigh. "Do you know what else is everywhere? Him! Do not be fooled by his size, he can do a world of damage in a remarkable short amount of time!"

Molly looked at the baby again and saw his little lip quivering as Sherlock's voice began to thunder while he stomped around. She could swear the child actually looked at her with pleading eyes for a moment.

"Well, yes they tend to do that. He's walking then?" she asked gently, trying to keep the tone calm.

"Oh yes!" Sherlock huffed as he adjusted the boy on his hip. "Just well enough to be quite a nuisance! And if he's not walking and getting into things, he's grabbing things and pulling them down. It's a wonder the entire flat hasn't come crashing down around us!"

Molly was becoming less and less tolerant of Sherlock's tone.

"All right, I understand. Look, it's fine. I understand it's a bit difficult. I don't mind the mess. I just wanted to bring you these things, and I got some take away too." She took out some of the food, hoping to calm him with the offering.

"It would be a miracle if I have the time to put anything in my mouth! It's a good thing I am used to infrequent eating, because he seems intent on refusing to allow me any time to care for myself!"

A little whimper escaped Scott's lips and Molly saw his eyes begin to fill. She took a step closer and decided she needed to step in.

"Sherlock," she said gently. "I think you need to calm down just a bit. He doesn't understand everything, but he understands you're upset. That can be enough to make him upset."

Sherlock laughed bitterly. "You have not been here the past five days straight, Molly! If you had, perhaps you would not expect me to be able to stay in a cheery mood all the time! It's nearly impossible!"

The whimpering continued from Scott, and Molly had just about enough. "Look, you need to find a way to relax. You can't go on caring for him like this, that's all I know. Why don't you have some dinner and I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

"I am in the middle of giving him a bath!" he said through gritted teeth. "I can't just drop everything and have some take away!"

"Sherlock, with all due respect, I think you do need to drop everything right now," she said gently but firmly. Then she stepped in and pulled the baby from his arms.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?!" he demanded as Molly turned to walk into the bathroom. "I am managing! You can't just come in here and-"

"Yes I can," she said in a sweet voice that was covertly laced with determination. "You need to take a break, Sherlock. I'm telling you to take a break. You need it, and the baby needs it."

"But I just-"

"So help me, you will be very sorry if you don't listen to me right now." She merrily bounced Scott as she gave Sherlock a stern warning stare. "I want you to take that container of takeaway and you're going to leave this flat, and I want you to take a walk. I don't care where you go, but you're not to come back for an hour. You will eat that food, have a nice quiet walk, and come back a  _very different man._ "

Sherlock stared back, eyes darting back and forth from her to Scott, obviously weighing his options.

"Do we understand each other?" she asked in a chipper voice while giving Scott a little tickle and making him giggle. She looked at Sherlock, awaiting his answer.

Sherlock finally let out a sigh and grabbed the take away, a fork, and his coat. He stomped out of the flat in defeated silence and shut the door. Molly waited to hear his rapid footsteps descend the steps, and she went to the window to watch him march down the street.

Molly looked at into the little blue eyes that peered up at her. "Well, I think it's time you had a proper bath, don't you?" The little face blossomed into a sweet smile, and she whisked him off to the bathroom.

* * *

Sherlock walked, and he walked…and he walked. It took him a long time to decide to stop. He finally took a seat on a bench about twenty minutes from Baker Street. He was reminded of the fact that he had dinner waiting for him when he smelled the food he'd been carrying. He cracked open the styrofoam container and dug his fork in, secretly thanking whatever deities existed for a real meal.

In fifteen minutes, the container was empty and Sherlock suddenly felt like he could think straight. Not only had he gotten a full meal, but the white noise of the streets at night was like a miracle. He hadn't had heard anything but crying and agitation for days. No time to truly  _think._ But of course, in some ways he didn't want to think.

Had he really stopped to think about the meaning behind all of this? If he were honest, it had barely been processed at all. His brother…was dead. And although his brother had walked out of their lives ten years ago, he'd entrusted the care of his infant to them. Sherlock shook his head. Had Sherrinford ever known them at all? In what way did he think any of them was equipped to raise a small child?

 _Sentiment._  Sherrinford always was a much more willing victim to that sort of emotional trap.

Sherlock hoisted himself up from the bench and began walking back in the direction of Baker Street. He was strolling now, as opposed to brisk angry marching, so he figured he should head back now rather than later. He felt more than a little sheepish to show his face in his own flat again. And wasn't this the very last sort of thing he needed with Molly Hooper?

Her disappointment in him from all those months ago still hung heavy over his head. He didn't like to think that it hurt him so much…but it did. Her disapproval had stung much more painfully than the crack of her palm against his cheek.

He hated to admit it, but he'd been ashamed to come to her for help after that. Not to say he didn't work with her at all. He did, on occasion. But he wasn't as free with his requests as he had been. There was a part of him that believed what he'd done had irreparably damaged their friendship. He was afraid to look in her eyes again, because he didn't want to see something was missing that used to be there…something he had grown far too accustomed to.

He tried to prepare himself since he knew that returning to his flat would involve mending fences…and saying thank you. Those were both things that tended to take a lot out of him, and he already felt he'd been drained dry in the past few days. He never knew that someone so small could take so much without giving anything in return.

Sherlock climbed the steps when he finally returned home and he found himself cringing as he did. It was only a matter of moments before he'd hear crying coming from the flat.

But as he came nearer and nearer to his door, all he heard was silence. He had a moment of panic, wondering if something awful had happened. He barged in and was about to call out to Molly, but he glanced over to see her sitting on the couch and casually reading a book. She quickly raised a finger to her lips, seeing that he was about to speak.

He blinked at her as he realized what had happened. "You got him to sleep?" he asked in a whisper that held more than a bit of wonder, walking over toward her.

"In the play pen in your room," she said with a little smile.

Sherlock stared at her, dumbfounded. "But…but he needed a bath."

"Yes, I gave him a bath. After he was nice and clean and warm, it wasn't hard to get him to nod off. I just sang to him and snuggled him a bit in your bed, and then put him in the play pen."

He flopped down on the couch next to her, still processing all that Molly had accomplished in the span of an hour. And apparently with little or no fuss. It was then that he glanced around the flat, his eyes narrowed.

"You moved things."

"I did. I put things back where they should be. I realize you're trying to keep things safe and out of his way, but there are more practical ways to do that besides lining chairs up in front of the fireplace and putting couch cushions against all the legs of tables. Most people with babies and toddlers don't actually live like that," she said with a giggle.

Sherlock felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "It seemed to…make sense. I needed to do  _something,_ " he replied weakly, his normal defenses lowered due to frustrations and lack of sleep.

There was a moment of silence, but then Molly reached over and caught him off guard by placing her hand over his on the couch.

"I know, Sherlock. I know you were trying," she said gently. "I'm not poking fun at you, but I do think it's clear that you needed a bit more help than you were getting."

He met her eyes and pressed his lips together, not quite ready to verbally admit that she was right.

Molly sighed. "Why didn't you text me, Sherlock? I would have come over days ago. Don't you know that?" she whispered, peering at him in question.

He looked away for a moment and rested his chin on his fingertips. His eyes darted around as he mulled things over in his head.

"I didn't feel I…should," he said hesitantly. "It is quite a lot to ask of someone."

Molly chuckled. "Sherlock…have you forgotten who I am? I thought you were awfully clear about the fact that you've never hesitated to ask quite a lot of me."

Sherlock looked at her, his eyes a bit harder. "That was  _before._ Don't pretend that didn't change anything."

Molly's fears were confirmed. He did think things were different since he'd been found taking drugs. She knew it already, but she supposed it was a bit of a relief to have him confirm it out loud.

"Sherlock," she began softly. "I hope you know I forgave you for that a long time ago."

"And for killing a man? Hm? What about that?" he asked, almost as if he were challenging her.

Molly blinked and chewed on her lips. Yes, there was that. But it didn't really change anything. It was time for her to make him see again; see how much faith she had in him.

"I agree that there's something awful about taking a life, no matter what the reasons are. But you know…I actually think that what you did was really brave. And it was selfless. Even more selfless than pretending to kill yourself those years ago. You really and truly agreed to give up your life in the moment you decided to pull that trigger. And I know you. You didn't just do it. You thought about it, probably only in a matter of seconds…but you definitely thought about it. And you chose to do what was best for Mary, John, and their baby."

Sherlock stared at her, silently filing away everything she was saying.

"So," Molly said with a grin and a shrug. "I'm not really sure what else there is to say. I'm still your friend and I can't think why I wouldn't want to help you now, just like I've helped you in the past. Maybe what the past year has taught me is that you're more human than ever. That doesn't make me want to stay away."

Sherlock finally tore his eyes away from hers and ran his hands over his face while collapsing against the back of the couch. He let his hands fall in his lap and let out a long sigh as he looked at her again.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Molly. It's been less than a week, and I don't. Know. What. I'm doing," he said slowly and so quietly she wasn't sure she'd heard him. He heaved a sigh. "Scott is miserable, and I'm miserable, and it seems as if there's nothing to do about it. I can't ship him off to anyone else! God knows my parents would be more than glad to care for him every day, but they physically can't right now. And even when they're stronger again and Mycroft is back and Mrs. Hudson isn't on holiday, it still won't be over! We are all apparently stuck having to contribute to raising this child, and I can't see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I can't even get a moment to bathe myself, let alone solve cases?!"

Molly snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth to try and silence herself.

"What?" He frowned at her amusement.

"Sorry, it's just…well you sound a bit like one of those really tired and stressed out new mums who just needs a break." She continued giggling.

"It is not funny," he said indignantly, but could feel the corner of his lips turning upward against his will.

Molly noticed that he was trying not to laugh, which made her laugh even harder. Sherlock tried really hard to press his lips together and will away his own laughter, but that didn't last long. He couldn't help the sputtering chuckles that turned to the full belly laughs before too long. It probably was the stress, but he didn't care much in the moment.

Molly shushed them both, remembering the sleeping baby down the hallway, but having a difficult time. When they both calmed down a little, Molly sighed and looked at him. "Sherlock, I'm going to help you. You know that don't you?"

Sherlock tilted his head, looking at her in awe. He wondered if he was this deeply grateful when she'd saved his life. Possibly not. He might be more grateful for the fact that she'd just volunteered to save his sanity.

"I think I can see that, yes." He gave her a small but very sincere smile.

"So um, I have the day off tomorrow. I think there's something that needs to be done, and that's to baby proof your flat. And in case you hadn't figured this out yet, that doesn't involve piling furniture on top of each other and using couch cushions to make table legs safer. There are actually ways to do it that don't mean making your flat look like a war zone!"

"I think you'll find I did terribly well, considering the circumstances. And some of my methods were truly ingenious! How many people would think to nail quilts to the book shelves so a tiny person couldn't climb and get injured or pull the books down?"

"Mm," Molly said, trying not to laugh too hard again. "You're practically an expert! But I think you'll find that a lot of the things they have in stores are a bit more helpful than using all your spare bedding to line the walls."

"If you insist," he said with a shrug.

Molly finally hoisted herself from the couch. "Well, I suppose I'll get going since my work here is done. I'll just text you tomorrow."

"Yes, that'll be fine," he agreed while standing as well.

As Molly picked her bag up and went to the door, she turned. "He'd such a little love, Sherlock. I think he's just wonderful. And did you hear him say 'muma?' He said it a few times while you were out."

Sherlock's expression fell a little. "I've heard it, yes…it's practically all he ever says," he said quietly.

Molly had to bite her lip to keep it from quivering. "Poor darling," she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and smiled bravely. "Right, well I'll see you both tomorrow. Night night."

"Molly?"

"Hm?"

Sherlock held her gaze for a moment with his tired eyes. "Thank you."

Molly nodded. "My pleasure," she said softly, and took her leave.

Sherlock locked up and made his way down the hall, shedding some of his baby-ruined clothes from that day as he went. He came into his moonlit bedroom and passed by the play pen on the way to his own bed. He peered in and looked down at the little face that was haloed in chestnut curls and watched as the boy's little eyes darted back and forth beneath his eyelids, possibly dreaming.

And for just a moment, brief as it was…Sherlock couldn't bear to look away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well this is fun! How strange to see you driving a car!" Molly said with a giggle as she buckled herself in.

"Mm, fun indeed," Sherlock muttered glumly as he moved out into traffic again. "Mycroft was good enough to loan me one of his vehicles. Moving in and out of cabs with a baby seemed impractical. Oh and I should probably have mentioned that this outing will need to involve a stop at my parents' home. I remembered this morning that I promised to bring Scott by this afternoon for at least a couple of hours. Will that be a problem?"

Molly shook her head. "No, that's all right. I don't mind…as long as they won't be bothered that I'm tagging along!"

"I honestly don't think they care much as long as I show up with Scott," Sherlock said with a hint of disdain.

"That's what happens when you have a baby. Nobody cares about you anymore!"

Sherlock turned briefly to frown at her. "I don't  _have a baby._ "

"You're taking care of one. A lot of the same rules apply. Besides, he may not be your son, but he's their grandson and that couldn't be more real."

"I think they've just discovered new reasons to complain to my brother and I. I've already had to hear a couple of comments about how they can't understand why their other sons haven't given them any grandchildren!" Sherlock grumbled at some of the other drivers. "For God's sake, are there always this many other vehicles on the road?!"

Molly tried to contain her amusement. She turned and made a silly face at Scott and it earned her a little giggle. Just then, they both heard the little voice from the back seat.

"Buk! Buk buk buk!" he said excitedly.

Sherlock glanced back for a second and then at Molly. "He never usually says much. What does 'buk' mean?"

"Hm, I don't know. Maybe his parents were teaching him animal noises. Maybe he's being a chicken. Is that it, Scott?" she asked sweetly. "Are you being a little chicken?"

The little boy gave her a shy smile while bouncing his little legs up and down, but she wasn't sure if she'd actually guessed correctly. He said it a few more times as they drove and Molly was becoming pretty curious about what he was actually trying to say.

Finally they arrived and made their way into the store with Sherlock dutifully pushing the small stroller with Scott's little legs bouncing happily in front of him. It was barely ten seconds after they'd crossed through the doorway that a chipper looking store clerk bounded over to offer assistance.

"Well hello there!" she said, more to Scott than either Sherlock or Molly. "Is there something I can help you find today?"

Molly jumped in. "We need some safety items. Scott here is pretty quick on his feet, so we need to make sure that he's safe in the flat and the flat is safe from him."

"Oh, no problem at all!" the woman said with a grin. "Why don't you come with me and I can recommend some products."

Sherlock and Molly followed the woman through the store, and as they went Scott started in with his "buk" babbling again. This time he seemed a bit more desperate.

"Buk! Buk buk!" He twisted in the stroller looking up at the adults behind him.

"I know, darling," Molly cooed. "Let's go get some nice things to keep you safe, all right? Uncle Sherlock doesn't want you getting hurt."

Scott stuck a couple of fingers in his mouth and looked a little disgruntled.

The clerk took them into an aisle that was packed with every safety contraption known to man. The helpful woman got them a shopping cart and helped them fill it with all the necessary items based on Sherlock's description of his flat. The clerk also observed Scott and suggested that Sherlock grab a couple of teething toys since it looked likely that he was cutting some new teeth. Scott was pretty excited about that plan and gladly took over holding the two toys that they picked for him.

Sherlock was soon trying to tally up the cost of everything they'd piled up so far, and the clerk had gone off to get the paperwork for a frequent buyer card in order to get him some sort of discount. Molly would tell that he was doing his best from holding back some scalding deductions, but Molly was busy trying to entertain Scott. He began contorting in his stroller, desperately trying to get out. Finally she unbuckled him and picked him up. He seemed momentarily appeased when she was holding him, but then he quickly began fussing and acting like he wanted to get down.

"Dow dow! Buk! Buk!" he whined.

"Ok ok, shhh!" Molly began to wonder how much longer Scott would hold it together in this store. "Sherlock, I'm going to just walk him over here a bit. Maybe he's just bored of staying put."

"Yes, fine," he said, not looking up from his discouraging calculations. He was currently making a mental note that he needed to take a couple of well-paying cases…and fast.

"Ok, let's go over here," Molly said cheerfully. "Shall we look at these things?"

Scott became more squirmy and excited, though not necessarily upset. Molly decided to let him get down and just get some energy out. There weren't many people around and she could easily just follow him and make sure he didn't grab anything he shouldn't.

The second she put him down, he toddled over to a couple of small shelves while continuing to repeat "buk" over and over. He plunked himself down on the floor and reached up, pulling multiple picture books onto the floor in front of him and then opening them with wide eyes.

Molly's mouth began to spread in a smile as she crouched down. "Well look at you!"

Scott grinned up at her and continued turning pages meticulously and staring at the pictures with fascination, occasionally pointing to something he especially liked.

"Buk buk buk!" he said happily.

Molly laughed and shook her head. "Of course!  _Book!_ You've been wanting a book. Oh, I'm sorry we didn't understand you, Scott!"

He was too engrossed and entertained to be bothered anymore about the adult's failure to catch on. He let out a little giggle and pointed to some funny farm animals, wanting Molly to look as well.

"I see! Look at those silly cows! Oh, you love books." She sat down near him and stroked his curly head while leaning down to give him a kiss.

Scott got up and shuffled over with his book, climbing onto Molly's lap and then continuing his careful page turning. Molly put her hand to her mouth and held back the lump in her throat as she snuggled the sweet little boy against her chest. It surely wasn't just the actual books he missed. It was likely also the times he got to sit on his parent's lap and read with them, hearing their voices and enjoying their affection.

Molly sniffled a little and then got back to focusing on what Scott was showing her. One thing was certain…she was not leaving this store without a few books!

Sherlock saw Molly and Scott coming back over to the aisle he was in a few minutes later, and Molly was carrying a pile of five or six books.

"Hi! I found some books that he absolutely  _adores!_ I don't want to hear any objections; I'm buying them for him as my gift. The poor little man has been really missing his books it seems. That's what he was saying. 'Buk' is book!"

"Ah…mystery solved it seems." Even Sherlock smiled as he watched Scott take a seat near the stroller and began looking through one of the books.

"I brought him back over so I could just run to the loo. I'll be back in just a minute," Molly said, setting the rest of the books in the cart.

"Not a problem. We will be right here."

When Molly came back over a few minutes later, she noticed another woman standing in the aisle beside Sherlock. This woman wasn't a store employee though. Molly slowed her pace as she got closer, seeing that the woman was talking to him.

"Oh how dreadful! My deepest condolences!" the woman said, placing her hand on Sherlock's arm.

Molly snickered at the slightly horrified look in Sherlock's eyes at this woman's unsolicited touch.

"Th-thank you," he responded quickly.

"And how very lovely of you to take on some of the responsibilities involved! I know how difficult it can be. When my husband left us a year ago, I honestly didn't know what I would do," she said, glancing down at the toddler in her own stroller. "Sometimes it really helps just to be able to talk to someone who really  _knows_ what it's like to care for a child on your own."

Molly saw the look on Sherlock's face. His eyes narrowed and head tilted as he squared his shoulders. He had picked up on the same thing that anyone else would. This was a single mum who was all too eager to meet a single 'dad' of sorts. She was pretty obviously eager which bothered Molly, but she also didn't want to see her get humiliated. Molly could practically see Sherlock turn into the consulting detective, and it was obvious that he was about to rip this woman apart till she had no interest in doing anything but leaving the store…

Molly rushed over quickly and immediately wrapped her arm around Sherlock's middle and got up on tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Sorry, darling, I'm back now," she said instantly before anything could come out of his mouth which was currently hanging open. Then she turned to the woman in front of Sherlock. "Oh hi! I'm Molly."

The woman looked a little uncomfortable at the realization that this was indeed not a single man. She recovered nicely though.

"Hi, I'm Fran. Nice to meet you. I was just telling you um, boyfriend how lovely it is that he's helping care for his nephew."

Molly grinned amorously up at Sherlock. "I know, it really is. He's been just wonderful about all of it."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes well, you've um…been so…supportive." His line was a little unconvincing, but he helped the performance along by slinging his arm around Molly's shoulder.

Molly held on a little tighter to Sherlock's middle, reveling in the delicious feeling of his strong arm draped around her.

"Well I wish you all the best," the woman said sweetly. "I've got to get going, but I hope you all have a lovely day."

"You as well, thanks!" Molly said with a smile, and the woman quickly made her exit.

They stood statue still as the woman wheeled the stroller away and finally turned a corner. Molly slipped her arms away from Sherlock once they were in the clear. She looked up at him sheepishly.

"Sorry, I hope you didn't mind…all of that." She began acknowledging Scott, who was standing at her legs and holding a book up for her to look at. "I just thought it would be better than the alternative."

"The alternative being what?" Sherlock questioned suspiciously.

Molly gave him a knowing look. "I know you were about to rudely deduce her."

Sherlock got shifty eyed. "How do you know that?" he asked unconvincingly.

Molly laughed as she picked Scott up to get him back in the stroller. "That's a silly question, Sherlock. I know  _you._ That's how I know."

He huffed, but clearly looked like he'd been found out. "How do you know it was going to be  _rude_ deductions?"

Molly snorted out another laugh. "Is there any other kind?" She continued laughing to herself as she began pushing Scott along toward the checkout lines.

"Valid point," Sherlock admitted quietly to himself, and then he followed along with the cart.

* * *

Mary leaned her head back on the rocking chair and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw how Lizzie's eyes had finally closed and she was drifting off to sleep. It had been a bit of a cranky morning and a nap was definitely a necessity. She picked up her mobile on the side table and sent a text to John who was downstairs.

SHE'S FINALLY OUT! SHOULD WE TEXT SHERLOCK AND SEE IF HE NEEDS ANY HELP TODAY? –MW

YOU JUST RELAX. I'LL TEXT HIM AND I'LL HELP TODAY IF HE NEEDS IT. –JW

XOXOXOXOXO -MW

Mary smiled to herself. "God, I love that man," she whispered as she put her mobile down and continued rocking gently.

Downstairs, John sat down at his desk and composed a text to Sherlock.

NEED ANY HELP TODAY MATE? I CAN COME OVER AND GIVE YOU A BREAK FOR A COUPLE HOURS IF YOU'D LIKE. –JW

He casually scrolled through headlines and sipped his tea for a few minutes. Finally, he heard his mobile chime and saw that the detective had replied.

NO NEED TODAY. ON OUR WAY TO MY PARENTS…GOT MOLLY WITH ME. –SH

John looked up from his phone with a frown. He shrugged and sent a text to Mary upstairs.

LOOKS LIKE SHERLOCK IS FINE. MOLLY IS WITH HIM. –JW

Mary picked up her phone and gasped. She carefully set her phone down and went about slowly setting Lizzie in her bassinet. She grabbed her phone again and backed out of the room slowly after turning the monitor on. Once out, she rushed down the stairs to John.

"Molly's with him?!"

John jumped. "God, you scared me…um, yeah that's what he said."

"Wow," she said with an excited gleam in her eyes. "Well that's exciting."

John looked up from his laptop again. "Is it? Well yeah, I guess I didn't really want to have to rush over there today anyway. Nice of her to help out."

"Yeah, but I mean maybe this will give Sherlock just the right amount of push that he needs," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

John narrowed his eyes. "Push for…what exactly?"

Mary sighed. "You are no fun at all. Haven't you ever thought about Sherlock and Molly getting together?"

John started giggling. He went on and on for a few moments as Mary looked on silently with her arms crossed. Finally he stopped and looked at her. "Oh…you're serious."

"Yes, I'm serious! Why can't you see them together?"

"Honestly, Mary, I've never seen Sherlock  _together_ with anyone. It would probably be an absolute disaster. I suspected he had feelings for one woman once, but that didn't exactly work out considering she's dead…and was gay." He shook his head. "Look, you never knew Sherlock and Molly before his fake suicide. Believe me when I tell you that no matter how she felt, there was really no interest on his part. I mean, what are you basing this on?"

"First of all, who did Sherlock go to when faking his death?" Mary asked with a determined look in her eye.

John rolled his eyes. "His friend who _works in a morgue._ "

"Have you met Sherlock and Mycroft?" Mary asked with a laugh. "Do you think that they couldn't have pulled all of that off without the help of Molly Hooper? Because I'm fairly certain they could have."

"Ok, fine, that's possible. But still…I just don't see it."

Mary pursed her lips and looked suspicious.

John frowned. "What?"

Mary shrugged with a feigned innocent expression. "You know, he always says that you see but you don't observe. I'm thinking he might be right."

That got his attention, throwing a suspicious look at his wife. "You know something." At her continued silence made him narrow his eyes further. "Mary...what do you know?"

She smiled but put her hands up in defense of her secrets. "Look, I'm not going to break Molly's confidence. We've become friends, and there was a little while there where she needed a girlfriend to talk to…someone who gets Sherlock. She may have shared a couple of things with me that would surprise you."

John looked around in shock. "How would I not know about something like this?!"

"Well naturally you wouldn't know about these instances unless Sherlock had told you, which is unlikely. They were alone at the time," Mary said with a smile of vindication.

John's voice dropped as if he were afraid the walls would hear. "And when you say  _alone…"_

"Oh! No no, nothing like that!" she said, not wanting to give the wrong impression. "I just mean nobody else was with them at the time. All I'm saying is that I get the feeling that he's spoken to her in ways that would surprise you, compared to your past experiences."

John looked more intrigued now and also appeared to suddenly remember something. "Come to think of it, do you know that the first time I ever saw anything like remorse for hurting someone's from Sherlock…it was directed at Molly."

Mary nodded. "Doesn't happen every day with him."

"Nope," John agreed. "I was shocked at the time. He apologized, I mean  _genuinely_ apologized and asked for her forgiveness in front of everybody. And nobody even had to tell him to do it! And then he kissed her on the cheek!"

Mary gasped. "Again?!"

John's eyes went wide even as Mary covered her mouth with both hands and tried not to laugh.

"Wait, again? What do you mean again?!" John questioned while Mary shook her head and put her hand out trying to stop him from fishing for further information. "My God, I was surprised enough the first time! Wait, if this was more recent, wouldn't she have been engaged at the time?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I can't possible say anymore! Molly would probably die of embarrassment if she knew we were even having this conversation right now!" Mary got up and walked away to put the kettle on, needing to physically distance herself for fear of spilling more information.

John sat there shaking his head and still chuckling lightly. "You've done it now, Mary!" he called into the kitchen. "Now I'm going to be reading into everything I see!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Mary said with a grimace. "I couldn't help it when you said she was giving him a hand with the baby today!"

"Actually, it gets even better," John said with a smirk. "There's something I didn't tell you yet about what they're doing today. It just so happens that they are on their way to take the baby…to see Sherlock's parents."

"Ooooh!" Mary giggled for a moment. "Well, I hope Molly knows what she's walking into." She went back into the kitchen to finish with the kettle.

John sighed to himself. "I hope  _Sherlock_ knows!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Haven't seen your dad since before you came back after being dead. I did see your mum at Mary's baby shower though," Molly commented as the car came to a stop outside the lovely country home.

Sherlock looked over at her suspiciously. "You're not nervous, are you? Why would you be nervous?"

"Oh no, of course not!" Molly laughed. "Why would I be nervous? I'm not nervous at all!"

He frowned while getting out and unbuckling Scott from the car seat. "That was terribly convincing," he muttered.

Sherlock and Molly soon stood on the front step and waited after they'd rung the bell. Scott was squirming in Sherlock's arms, eager to get down and use up some energy after napping in the car while they drove. Finally, Mrs. Holmes opened the door.

"Oh hello, little lovey!" she exclaimed in glee as she ushered them inside. "Oh, Molly! What a nice surprise. I didn't know you were coming with Sherlock."

"Well I had offered to help him buy some things this morning and he asked if I wouldn't mind tagging along to come visit…since we were already out and about. I hope you don't mind!"

"My goodness, no!" she said firmly. "I'm pleased to see you." Her voice dripped with sweetness as Sherlock set Scott down on the floor and he toddled over to his grandmother. "Oh! Isn't he such a darling?!

Molly laughed a little at the adorable scene. Mr. Holmes came out as well and the two doting grandparents were instantly sucked into focusing on Scott. They ushered him along into the living room and sat down on the couch to have a cuddle.

"Yes, hello everyone," Sherlock said under his breath as he slung his coat on the hook and went in the living room as well, feeling a bit forgotten.

"Oh yes, heaven forbid you aren't the center of attention, Sherlock!" his mother said with a laugh. She looked at Molly. "The two of them, Sherlock and Mike, oh they were absolute horrors whenever they thought nobody was paying attention to them! It isn't a wonder that neither of them have graced me with a grandchild. I'm sure they wouldn't be able to handle the competition!"

Sherlock sighed loudly as he dropped down into a wide armchair. "I'm not five years old anymore. I think I might be able to grasp the fact that an infant requires more attention than an adult!"

Scott bumbled over from his grandparents to where Sherlock sat and grinned up at him.

"Aren't you bored of me yet?" Sherlock questioned his nephew, unable to fully grasp the fact that the little boy had already formed an attachment and would naturally prefer the person he'd spend most of that week with. "Wouldn't you rather spend time with your grandparents? You'll be forced to put up with just me again soon enough."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed. "Perhaps Scott would like to look at his new books with you two! I got him a few this morning at the shop."

The Holmes parents smiled at each other. "That sounds lovely, thank you, Molly," Mr. Holmes said kindly.

"I'll just pop out to the car and grab them. Be back!"

She rushed out and immediately Mrs. Holmes looked at her son. "Sherlock Holmes, you have ten seconds to tell me what, if anything, is going on. And do not play coy with me, I won't have it!"

"She's helping with Scott, Mummy! That is all," he said, glancing out the window to make watch where she was.

"Perhaps that shouldn't be all!"

"Look, I-"

"Ah!" she put her hand up, cutting Sherlock off. "Keep your mouth shut and simply think about it is all I am telling you. Thankfully, you haven't got the time to argue with me right now."

They heard the door open again and Molly rushed in with the bunch of picture books. "Here you go!" she said, placing them on the floor in front of Scott. "He absolutely loves them, just watch!"

Scott's face did indeed light up at the sight of his books and he began turning pages and happily announcing "buk" to his grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were enthralled and became completely wrapped up in reading to their grandson. The three of them were soon all laughing and enjoying themselves.

Sherlock glanced over at Molly who was watching the scene on the floor with a serene smile. He suddenly felt a little restless and drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair for a moment before hopping up and going into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and snatched a lemon bar from the inviting pile that sat on a plate. A minute later, Molly came in and joined him.

"Oh, I wondered where you got off to," she said, leaning on the counter. "Look at you…just like any boy coming home to his mum's house."

"Wha?" he asked with mouth full.

Molly giggled. "You go right for the food! Making up for all the times you're working a case hm?"

"What cases?" he asked bitterly.

"Oh…right." Molly sat down at the table along with Sherlock. "A bit slow lately I suppose."

As if on cue, Sherlock's mobile chimed and he took it out of his pocket while wiping at the crumbs on his lips. He swiped at the screen and seemed to be reading. Finally he set his phone down without saying anything, but he began conspicuously glancing at Molly.

Molly frowned, a little amused at his mysterious glances. "What?" she asked with a chuckle. "What are those looks for?"

"I um...just got a text from Lestrade. It seems there's a case he wanted my help with tonight," he said slowly, watching her face carefully.

Molly's mouth formed a little O shape as she realized what he was saying, or more accurately…asking. Though she was almost immediately inclined to help him out, she was also not going to let him get his way so very quickly and easily.

"Oh, I see. I suppose you'd really enjoy taking that case if you were able. It's a shame," she said, looking off into the distance wistfully. She heard him emit a little sigh.

"Molly," he began, turning himself to face her. "You realize I am…terribly grateful for how helpful you've been today, don't you?"

She turned to look at him, desperately trying not to laugh.

He gave her a little smile and added, "I've always thought you were such an…amazing friend."

Molly leaned her chin on her hand and raised her eyebrows, prompting him to go on.

He started to look a little nervous, but his eyes roved past her face and scanned lower. "Hm…is that a new blouse, Molly?"

At that point she couldn't help snorting out a laugh. "All right, stop! You know, I don't think you're as good at this as you used to be! Or maybe I'm just better at seeing through it."

He smiled sheepishly but said nothing, wait for some sort of answer. Finally she put him out of his misery. "Yes, Sherlock! Yes, I will watch Scott for you so you can go help Lestrade!"

Sherlock's lips spread in a genuine grin. Molly couldn't help a little squeak from coming out when he shocked her by grasping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Granted, it was brief…but it was also tender enough to warm her all the way to her toes.

"Thank you, Molly," he said after pulling away, still wearing the grin of a child given a new toy.

"Oh, um, n-no problem," she stammered, and knew full well that her cheeks were visibly pink now.

Sherlock excitedly picked up his mobile and began texting Lestrade. Molly left him to it and went back into the living room to see how things were going. Sherlock seemed to be engrossed anyway. But a few minutes after Molly left, Violet Holmes came in and joined Sherlock. She sat down at the table next to him, which prompted him to set his mobile down.

"How are you, my boy?" she said softly, placing her hand over his on the table.

"Fine," he said quickly…too quickly for the perceptive eyes and ears of a mother.

She squeezed the larger and stronger hand beneath hers. "You may be able to fool a lot of people, William Sherlock, but you can't fool me." Her kind eyes fell for a moment before she looked back at her son sadly. "I am sorry we can't be of more help right now. I feel so useless! All I can do is sit here and…miss him."

She leaned forward into Sherlock and he carefully wrapped his arms around her. His mother sniffled a little against his chest, and he held her tightly for a long moment, neither of them saying anything. Finally she pulled back and wiped her eyes.

"I suppose I am used to missing your brother. But in the past I knew he was out there somewhere. That was comforting. Now I know he's not." She put on a brave smile. "I am trying to focus on Scott instead. Though I do wish we could have him here for days!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Are you sure about that?"

"You forget, I raised three boys. The idea of adorable little Scott doesn't frighten me as much as it frightens you.  _That_ is most certainly  _my_ area." She gave Sherlock's cheek a playful little pat. "There is hope yet. I should be able to help more with his care in another couple of weeks, as long as that insufferable doctor doesn't tell me I need to  _'take it easy'_ for even longer!" The older woman huffed and rolled her eyes.

Her youngest song smiled. "I knew I got my intolerance for boredom from somewhere."

* * *

About an hour later, they were getting ready to wrap things up. Mr. Holmes had insisted on taking Sherlock out to his garden to tell him all about the his plans for this year, or at least as soon as he was more fully recovered. Scott had been fed and changed, and was back to his books on the floor as Mrs. Holmes and Molly sat on the couch and watched him. But unexpectedly, the little boy looked up and something caught his eye. He stood from the floor and toddled over to the table by the couch.

Scott pointed to a framed picture and looked at the two women with a bright smile. "Dada! Dada!" he announced happily.

Mrs. Holmes face instantly crumpled as tears sprung to her eyes. Molly jumped up and took over, picking Scott up and bringing the picture over with them to sit back on the couch.

"Where's dada?" Molly asked gently as Mrs. Holmes dabbed at her eyes.

Scott pointed again to the young man standing between Mycroft and Sherlock, and then smiled at Molly.

Molly felt her own eyes fill and she looked at Mrs. Holmes sympathetically. She reached over and squeezed the older woman's hand on the couch.

"Yes, that's your dada, very good," Molly said, trying not to let her voice shake.

"Dada?" he said again, more of a question this time as he peered up at Molly.

"I know, darling," Mrs. Holmes said, unable to hide her tears from Scott's confused little face. "I miss him too."

Scott clearly wasn't sure what to think, but just kept looking at the picture. Molly looked at it as well, unable to help smiling at the younger faces of the two men she knew. Sherlock looked similar, though more boyish of course. Mycroft…well he had more hair. And then there was Sherrinford.

Molly couldn't help but think that he was the most classically handsome of the three boys; the one who surely would have turned the most heads. He looked charming and confident while the other two men appeared more aloof and serious. If she were to judge from just this one little snapshot of time and from what she already knew Sherlock and Mycroft, she'd have to say that Sherrinford seemed like…the normal one.

"He was a good boy," Mrs. Holmes said, almost as if she could tell what Molly was analyzing. "He simply got caught up with the wrong crowd. He was smart of course, like his brothers. But he was also much more social. It's strange how things turn out…I always thought that was the best thing about Sherrinford. He was the only one who seemed to have a well-balanced and healthy life. The only one who had healthy relationships." She shook her head sadly.

"I'm so sorry," Molly said softly.

Mrs. Holmes smiled at her. "Children and family are the greatest gifts life has to offer. But unfortunately, when something is that deeply rooted in your heart, it has the potential to cause that much more pain."

Molly nodded. "I understand," she said, and meant it. "He was a part of you. I'm sure you feel you're missing something now. I know that feeling."

"Ah yes, you lost your father? I believe Sherlock mentioned it on one occasion."

Molly nodded. "It does get easier, but it never really goes away…that feeling. Each person is such an individual and so unique. To lose them means creating a hole that can't really be filled with anything or anyone else. It doesn't mean other people aren't just as special, that's just…how it is. Nobody else is my father, so that piece will always be missing to me. Just like Sherrinford for you. I like to think of it as a way of remembering though. When someone is so special, you'll never really be completely over their loss. I don't think we should be."

Mrs. Holmes nodded with an appreciative smile. "I feel the same." She let out a long sigh as she stroked Scott's curly head of hair. "I only wish this blasted shoulder didn't stop me from caring for Scott. It's the only thing that feels truly  _right_ to me. It seems the fitting way to honor my son's memory. I hope I'll be more physically able soon."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time with Scott soon enough," Molly said with a smile. "Perhaps by then, you'll have to fight Sherlock for some time with him!" She and Mrs. Holmes both laughed.

The older woman put a hand on Molly's shoulder as their giggles died down. "You are a dear friend to help him at a time like this, not that it should surprise us I suppose. You've done this much and more for him in the past. He is very fortunate to have you." She set her jaw and glared out the window briefly in Sherlock's direction before looking back at Molly. "But I imagine it's safe to say he doesn't always deserve you."

"Oh, that's all right. Nobody's perfect." Molly chuckled a little. "And besides, I don't mind giving him a bit of a talking to from time to time, if needed."

Mrs. Holmes smiled slyly. "And from what I hear, when you talk…he listens."

"Well, not always," she said with a shrug. "But I'd like to think that usually we understand each other."

"Yes," Mrs. Holmes said softly. "I think you do."

Sherlock and his father soon came back inside and it was time for them to leave. Molly was given warm hugs by both of the Holmes parents and Scott was given a long series of kisses and snuggles before Sherlock was able to usher them all the way to the car.

Scott was given one of his new books to look at in the back seat and Molly enjoyed the peace as they rode along the streets that were pleasantly rural compared to the bustle of the city. She leaned her arm on the opened window and closed her eyes while letting the breeze hit her face and blow her hair in who knows how many directions. She didn't even know how long she stayed like that, but when she did finally open her eyes and look over…

She caught Sherlock turning his eyes quickly away from her and focusing back on the road.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they got back to Baker Street, so it was silly for Molly to go back to her own flat and have to come back again so soon. She climbed the stairs with Scott balanced on her hip while Sherlock brought in the bags of baby safe gadgets.

Sherlock phoned Lestrade and made sure he knew to drop by and pick him up later. He decided it would be best to leave Molly with the car, just in case of an emergency. After that, he began working on baby proofing the flat. It turned out to be more challenging than some moderately difficult cases he'd worked.

Molly played with Scott on the floor of the living room and they'd developed a game which he thought was nothing short of hysterical. Molly would pretend to look elsewhere and Scott would run up to her and grab her, which prompted her to gasp in surprise and fall over. She lost count of how many times this was gleefully repeated without losing its appeal.

The game revealed an adorable skill of Scott's as well. Molly began saying "bye bye" when he'd walk away in preparation to surprise her. When she said "bye bye," without fail Scott would lean in to give her a little kiss on the cheek before rushing off. Molly thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. She'd noticed it first when they had left the Holmes' home earlier. It seemed clear that Scott had been taught to give a kiss when saying goodbye and was very attached to the routine.

A little while later, Molly was just about to suggest some supper for Scott when Sherlock came in with his dress shirt sleeves messily rolled up and dropped the tools with a loud thud on the table. He let out a huff and threw down a stack of instruction manuals.

"Never again do I want to install these sorts of things. They may keep babies safe, but they are nothing short of torture devices for adults! And I haven't even put everything in yet!"

Scott giggled and lifted his arms up to Sherlock, who acted as if he didn't notice.

"He wants you to hold him. Come on, look at his little face! Pick him up," Molly said in a pleading tone.

"He does know how to stand, Molly. He doesn't need to be carried around everywhere."

"That's not the point. He's still little and he needs affection."

Sherlock looked back and forth between Molly and Scott and finally leaned down and lifted the little boy into his arms. Scott immediately reached up and happily scrunched his fingers into Sherlock's hair while laughing.

"Clock," Scott said with a little click of his tongue. He gave Sherlock an adoring smile while patting his head.

Despite himself, Sherlock's jaw dropped and he looked at Molly in amazement. "I-I think he just called me a clock."

Molly gave him a halfhearted frown. "I think he was actually saying 'Sherlock,'" she said, jumping up and grinning as she came over to them. "Can you say 'Sherlock' again, Scott, hm? Who is this? Is this Sherlock?"

"Clock!" Scott repeated and laughed, enjoying how much this entertained the adults.

Sherlock let out a deep chuckle and couldn't help smiling back at the little face. "That's right…I'm Sherlock."

He and Molly grinned at each other in this strangely magical moment. Till that moment, neither of them even noticed how Molly had automatically come over to stand so close against him and was naturally resting her hand on his bicep that worked to hold onto Scott. Sherlock noted how strange it was; how one badly spoken word coming out of a little person's mouth could act as a magnet…literally drawing two people together.

Both of their grins began to fade slowly as they registered their proximity and contact. Molly's gaze faltered and he let her hand slide away from his arm. She took a little step back and gave him a nervous smile.

"See, he really likes you," she said happily. "Getting quite attached."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Scott. "I suppose I'm flattered, though I'm not sure this says good things about his taste in people." He looked back at Molly. "I'm not the most worthy recipient of such attachment."

Molly bit her lip and smiled at the floor before looking back at him. "I don't know if I'd agree with that," she said softly, but turned away before her cheeks had the chance to get too red.

Sherlock was a little dumbstruck for a moment, but finally looked back at Scott and exchanged a smile with the boy. As he did, he marveled for a moment at how he had been floundering so helplessly only one day before this. Everything seemed so much better now, so much more peaceful and comfortable. He was well aware that it wasn't just because all the furniture was now securely bolted to the walls and the toilet was as difficult to get into as one of Mycroft's many personal safes.

It was her.

Sherlock felt some uncomfortable memories creep up at that moment; ones he'd carefully tucked away for many months. He thought about how he felt when he first came back to London. He had entertained…possibilities…that he never before imagined he would.

When he came home and discovered that Molly Hooper had a ring on her finger, a ring from another man, he instantly kicked himself for even considering such a drastic change in his life. What he told himself at the time, in that time honored tradition of deceiving oneself as a defense mechanism, was that it was a stupid idea in the first place and that's he'd simply "changed his mind" upon returning home. The truth of the matter was a little different. In reality, he'd realized that it was not possible.  _They_ were not possible. And so he let it go, completely sweeping the shadows of feelings under the rug.

It was only now that he was hit with the realization of how very different things had become. There was a seemingly unending string of barriers in their way ever since his return home. There was Tom, then Magnussen, then the temporary (and mostly imagined) rift in their friendship. But all that had suddenly dissolved and simply become pieces of history. As he watched her comfortably moving around in his kitchen and starting some bread toasting…some long-still wheels began to slowly turn in his brain once again.

"I um…may be late," he said, breaking the silence and strolling into the kitchen.

"Oh, that's all right," she said with a shrug. "Late shift tomorrow. I don't have to be to Bart's till noon."

Sherlock nodded as Scott became bored and worked at wiggling out of his arms. He set Scott down and he went over to stand at Molly's legs instead, interested in what she was doing.

"I don't mind if you're late," Molly went on. "You might need to wake me and make me go home though!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Promise not to nearly break my nose if I wake you this time?"

Molly broke out in laughter. "I almost forgot about that! Oh, I felt awful…though it served you right for coming into my bedroom in the dead of night without calling first!"

"Lesson learned," he said seriously. "From then on I tended to nudge you and then immediately jump three steps back."

"And what poetic justice that you're now caring for a child," she said, smiling down at Scott. "Oh and by the way, does he wake in the night at all?"

"He has a few times. Seems to wake up afraid. Perhaps he's had bad dreams."

Molly ran a hand through her hair and looked saddened. "Poor thing. It's no wonder if he does have bad dreams. Was he involved in the accident that killed his parent?"

"I don't believe so. I did acquire his medical history all the way from birth to the present day. It's all rather picture perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing traumatic."

"Except for missing the two people that meant the most to him." Molly had to swallow a lump in her throat.

Sherlock retreated down the hall soon after, changing his shirt and putting on a suit jacket. He looked over the existing case information that Lestrade had sent him and checked emails while Molly gave Scott some toast to munch on while she tried to figure out what else was possible for supper.

Not long after, Sherlock's mobile chimed. Lestrade had informed him that he was nearing Baker Street.

"Well, I'll be off." He grabbed his coat off the hook as Molly came over holding Scott.

"Ok, see you later," Molly said brightly. "Scott, say bye bye to Uncle Sherlock. He's got to go catch the bad guys!" She tickled him and he giggled.

"Hopefully I do, after all this." He looked at Scott and smiled. "I likely won't see you till tomorrow. Have a good night."

Molly pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. It was still a little comical to watch Sherlock interacting with a toddler. He could do with some more loosening up, but she was still impressed with how he was trying.

"Buh bye!" Scott finally said, reaching out to Sherlock.

"I think he wants to give you a kiss!" Molly said and helped lean Scott closer.

Sherlock hesitantly but dutifully leaned down and Scott planted a sloppy kiss on his uncle's cheek.

"Buh bye! Buh bye!" Scott repeated excitedly when Sherlock stood up again and smiled at him.

Sherlock looked at Molly and gave her a smile as well. "Good night, Molly…and thank you."

"No problem," she said with a smile as Sherlock backed out of the doorway.

He shut the door behind him and Molly locked up after he was gone. She set Scott back on the ground and sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"It's just me and you again, little man. What shall we do?"

* * *

It was past midnight when Sherlock unlocked the door and walked into his darkened flat. It was completely silent and obvious that both people were asleep. He took of his coat and shoes before quietly walking down the hall to his bedroom. When he went in, he found a scene that he was already half expecting.

There was Molly and Scott, both fast asleep in his bed. Scott was snuggled up against her and Molly's arm encircled him protectively. It looked as though they hadn't meant to fall asleep though. One of Scott's new books lay opened on the bed and Molly was still wearing her shoes and wasn't under the covers. Sherlock smiled at the scene, despite the fact that two uninvited guests in his bed would normally seem rather repugnant. He decided very quickly that there was no way he was waking Molly with the purpose of sending her home now.

He gingerly stepped over to where Molly lay and removed the flats from her feet. As he pulled the covers up and gently laid them over her, she stirred and looked up with sleepy eyes.

"Sherlock…you're home," she mumbled and started to sit up.

"It's fine, Molly," he whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder and stopping her. "Stay where you are and sleep if you'd like. I'm not going to bed yet anyway."

"Oh…ok," she said with an accompanying yawn and put her head back down as Sherlock walked back out of his bedroom again. He figured he would get some more work done and avoid disturbing them.

When Sherlock did finally decide to get some sleep a couple of hours later, he settled on pulling a blanket over himself on the couch. After all, his bed wasn't a king size. He was afraid of either crowding Scott and disturbing his sleep or being a bit too close to Molly for his liking. He had barely even begun to decide whether anything should change between them. Not the time to snuggle up next to her.

But he couldn't deny the fact that he felt a mysterious contentment as he drifted off…just from the image of her peacefully sleeping right down the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock peered out the window of his flat and saw the dark car pull up to the curb. He drew a deep breath, threw his shoulders back, and whispered to himself, "Here we go again." To his own surprise, he also smiled.

Sherlock stepped out the front door a minute later, just in time to see Mycroft pulling out the last of the bags. He looked so incredibly out of his element as he shut the boot of the car while adjusting his hold on Scott. That was when the little boy looked over and noticed Sherlock.

"Clock! Clock!" he squealed happily and reached his hands out.

Sherlock grinned and stepped forward, taking Scott from his brother's arms and enjoying the surprisingly familiar and comforting feeling of having the child back in his care.

"No wonder he kept saying 'clock,'" Mycroft said as he brought the three bags of Scott's things over to the door. "I am also now aware that running a country is actually a rather simple task, in addition to feeling a bit vindicated in my decision to thus far remain a bachelor. How long are we doing this for again?" he asked while rubbing his eyes.

"Mm, give or take seventeen years," Sherlock answered, but wasn't looking at Mycroft. He was busy letting Scott rearrange his hair.

"Oh, dear Lord," Mycroft groaned.

"Did you take him to visit Mummy and Dad?"

"I did," Mycroft answered, and his tone perked up a bit. "She said that they should be ready for some overnight stays in another week or two. Thank goodness for that!" It was at that point that Mycroft actually registered how connected Sherlock and Scott were. His brother's attention had been locked onto the little boy and wasn't wavering. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him. Sherlock had sent an obscene number of texts checking in over this past ten days.

"So things went well?" Sherlock asked, looking up at his brother finally.

"As well as possible, I'd say. Anthea was quite a bit of help. She did remind me that this was hardly included in her contract, but she also seemed to enjoy spending time with the boy. Gave me a break now and then. Oh! And in case he says anything confusing, I should mention that I'm teaching him a bit of Japanese."

Sherlock frowned. "Why?"

"Babies and toddlers are naturally gifted at learning languages. This is the time to teach a second language, if you're going to do it. Much easier than it would be in even another few years," Mycroft stated while preparing to get back in his car.

"Yes, I realize that. But why Japanese?"

"That's easy," Mycroft said with a smug smile. "You know very little Japanese." The elder Holmes got in his car, shut the door, and drove off with a quick wave. He was making no secret about being in a hurry to have a bit of freedom back.

As Sherlock went inside, Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat with accompanying high pitched noises of excitement. "Oooh! Is this little Mr. Holmes?!" She approached Sherlock and Scott and gave him a grin.

"Scott, this is Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said gently, making introductions as Scott snuggled a little closer against his chest. "She lives here too. You two will get to be good friends."

"Oh, he's a bit shy, isn't he?" Mrs. Hudson asked while softly stroking the curls on Scott's head.

"Seems to be," Sherlock said, glancing down at him. "Though he's probably also a bit tired. Who knows if Mycroft stuck to regular naps. I tried texting him earlier this week to make sure Scott was getting the necessary sleep, but Mycroft is terrible with texting." He huffed and adjusted Scott on his hip.

Mrs. Hudson clasped her hand to her heart and looked moved with emotion. "You were worried about him! What a sweet uncle you are, Sherlock!" she cooed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "All right, Mrs. Hudson, we'll just be heading upstairs now, thank you very much." He grabbed a couple bags with his other hand and began climbing the stairs.

"Ok! You boys let me know if you need anything!" she called after him. She clicked her tongue and shook her head while speaking softly to herself on her way back into her flat. "You boys...been quite a while since I've been able to say that."

* * *

Sherlock had to contend with a squirmy Scott the moment that they got into his flat.

"Olly, olly, olly," Scott repeated as Sherlock put him down.

"Where are you off to?" Sherlock was a little amused as he watched Scott toddling around the flat as if on a mission. He went into the kitchen and Sherlock followed as he continued down the hall, still repeating "Olly."

Scott walked into Sherlock's bedroom and looked around. He stuck a finger in his mouth and then looked up at his uncle with wide eyes.

"Clock," Scott said looking up at him. "Olly?" he asked.

Sherlock finally realized what was happening and his jaw dropped. "Ah, I see! Molly? You're looking for Molly?" he asked, crouching down.

"Olly! Olly!" Scott agreed excitedly, and then ran over to the nightstand to grab one of his books which had been there from his last stay.

Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed as Scott alternated between examining his book and rubbing his eyes. Finally, he reached down and lifted Scott and his book onto the bed. This was met with squeals of delight. "Clock's" big bed had become rather popular, especially compared to the playpen.

"What do you say we read a bit hm?" Sherlock said, leaning back against his pillow and pulling Scott in close. "Then perhaps we can have a little rest."

"Buk." Scott agreed with that much of the plan at least.

"If you have a nice nap, perhaps then we can go for a drive," Sherlock said, a sly smile growing on his face as he opened to the first page of the book. "How would you like to see a place called…Bart's hospital?"

* * *

Molly pulled one of her gloves off in order to answer her mobile which was buzzing on the table. "Sherlock, hi," she answered while pinning the phone between her face and shoulder.

"Afternoon, Molly," he said brightly. "Would you mind popping out into the hallway for a moment?"

"Um, I suppose I could. Why? Are you here? Can't you just come in? I'm in the middle of a post mortem."

"It'll only be for a moment," Sherlock assured her. "I think you'll be glad you did."

Molly could hear a bit of a smile in his voice, which intrigued her. "Oh, ok. I'll be right out then."

A minute later, Molly opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, and let out a happy little gasp when she saw Sherlock with Scott in his arms.

"Hello, you!" she said sweetly as Sherlock came over from where they'd been standing by the window. The little boy instantly grinned and laughed in excitement. "I didn't know you'd be visiting me today!"

"Yes well I didn't plan it either," Sherlock admitted as he handed Scott over. "I only just got him back from Mycroft a few hours ago, but it seemed we couldn't avoid coming to see you."

"Oh?" Molly asked, her cheeks getting a little pink.

"Mm." Sherlock looked at Scott. "Scott, who's this? Who is this?" he prompted.

Scott gave Molly some friendly pats on the face and excitedly said, "Olly!"

Molly laughed and began peppering Scott's face with little kisses. "That's right! Oh, what a smart boy you are!"

"He asked for you…rather insistently," Sherlock said softly as he looked on with a half-smile.

Molly looked back up at him. "He did?" She was truly touched. "That's really sweet. I wish I wasn't working right now."

"Perhaps he just wanted to see you. I'm sure he'll be just fine now and you can get back to work." Sherlock went to scoop Scott out of Molly's arms, but the little boy clung to Molly's neck which made her laugh. "Hm…well maybe just a few more minutes."

Molly touched her nose to Scott's. "Aw, I don't mind!" She looked back at Sherlock. "How long do you have him this time?"

"Who knows," Sherlock answered with a shrug. "A week, maybe two…not sure. He may go to my parents for a while after that. Or perhaps back to Mycroft if they aren't ready for him yet."

"Well, how long is that going to continue? Seems a bit unstable. How can you raise a little boy like that? He's never even going to know where he belongs; where home is."

Sherlock had to admit that he hadn't really considered that. Not to say he didn't care about the child, but he'd been thinking of it all in terms of logistics. He hadn't considered the fact that you can't just shift a toddler's home every couple of weeks and expect that they won't suffer in some way.

"Don't forget that he's lost everything he believes to be normal and important," Molly went on while Scott tugged at her hospital badge. "He needs stability, especially right now. He needs to know consistently who's there for him."

Sherlock pressed his lips together and thought about this. He was quiet for long enough that Molly felt the need to speak again.

"Sorry, I know it's not really my place. It's just that I know he's in a vulnerable position right now and I just-"

"No, it's fine," Sherlock cut in. "I'll have to give it some thought. I'm sure you're right. He should have a home; one that he can depend on. I think it's safe to say that would fall on myself or my parents. I can't see Mycroft becoming Scott's most steady caregiver."

Molly giggled. "Scott seems to be able to win anybody over though. I don't know how anyone could avoid falling in love with this little face!" She blew a raspberry on his cheek.

Sherlock watched Molly and Scott as they smiled and laughed together. He wondered how a simple scene like this could manage to warm him inside so easily. He remembered standing in these very halls with his brother, commenting about how much other people care, and how little the two of them did.

 _I care now,_ Sherlock thought.  _I care so much._

"I bet he likes chips."

Sherlock blinked and emerged from his thoughts. "Chips?"

"Yes, chips," Molly repeated with a smile. "What if I take him to get some chips after my shift? I mean, maybe you have cases or things to do or…" Her words trailed off and she chewed her lip.

"I could come," he finished. "I don't currently have anything else going and I was going to spend the day with him anyway."

Molly's brown eyes lit up a little. "Oh, well that would be nice too. I'll just text you in a few hours then."

It was a bit difficult getting Scott off of Molly and getting him to say goodbye when he didn't fully understand the phrase, "we'll be getting chips with her in a few hours." As Sherlock rode the elevator with a fussing toddler, he found that he was just as disappointed to leave Bart's hospital as Scott was.

* * *

WHAT'S IT LIKE OUT THERE? WHAT'S IT LIKE IN THE LAND WHERE TEETH AREN'T COMING IN AND SHOWERS CAN BE TAKEN WHENEVER ADULTS FEEL LIKE IT? :'( -MW

LOL! AW, I'M SURE YOU'LL MISS IT IN A FEW YEARS. :) BESIDES, I WOULDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT WORLD YOU SPEAK OF. I'M ABOUT TO MEET UP WITH A TODDLER…AND A MAN WHO MAY AS WELL BE ONE SOMETIMES. –MH

OH! REALLY? THAT'S LOVELY! AND THAT'S ENOUGH TO BRIGHTEN MY CRANKY AFTERNOON. CALL AND GIVE ME DETAILS? –MW

I WOULD BUT I'M JUST LEAVING BART'S NOW. GOT TO MEET THEM AT A FISH SHOP. MAYBE I CAN CALL LATER? –MH

I CAN'T WAIT! –MW

* * *

"I did them a favor!" Sherlock argued, even as Molly laughed at his reasoning. "What? Do you think that woman shouldn't have been told that her boyfriend actually has a child with another woman?"

Molly adjusted Scott on her lap as he grabbed another chip from the takeaway container on the park bench and stuck it in his mouth. "Of course it's something a person should know, but not like that! Haven't you learned yet that there's a time and place to tell people certain things?"

Sherlock shrugged and put a chip in his mouth as well. "I believe the phrase is 'there's no time like the present.'"

Molly sighed and shook her head at the stubborn man. Scott leaned forward from her lap and held a chip out to Sherlock, making her forget any irritation. "Sherlock, he's trying to feed you. That's sweet!"

Sherlock frowned. "Why is that sweet? I can feed myself," he stated, logic winning out over cuteness.

Molly gave him a hard stare. "Sherlock, take a bite of that chip or so help me…your nephew is trying to do something nice! He's learning generosity."

He spared a second to roll his eyes a bit, but then dutifully leaned down and took the chip from Scott's little hand. "Mm!" he hummed appreciatively as he chewed. Then he looked back at Molly. "Happy?"

"Very," she said with a satisfied smile.

 _Too happy,_ she thought. How long could this disturbingly enjoyable game of playing happy family last? She didn't know the answer, but she knew one thing for certain…she was in this for the long haul. She'd committed, without even saying so. It didn't really need to be said. The minute she'd learned of his need for help with Scott, she was voluntarily locked in. A ridiculous scene began playing in her mind. She could actually see herself standing on Baker Street and waving off a teenage Scott as he headed off to university. She'd probably stand there next to Sherlock and look at him awkwardly as Scott's cab disappeared out of sight.  _Well…what now? Back to kitchen lab experiments?_

Molly shook her head a little, erasing the silly mental image. If she were honest though, it was possible that it wasn't far off from reality. Could she live with that? Could she literally raise a child with Sherlock, but not share a life with him? But then she came back to her first conclusion. The decision had already been made. She would do it, whatever  _it_ ended up being.

Whatever he needed.

She absentmindedly rubbed circles on Scott's back as he leaned his head against her chest. The soft weight of a small person was a strangely comforting thing. They'd been quiet for a little while at that point, and Molly then noticed that Sherlock was writing something in his little notepad.

"A case?" she asked.

"Hm?" He glanced up. "Oh…no. Just um, a few notes on a…personal experiment of mine." He shoved the pad and pen back in his pocket.

"What sort of experiment?" Molly asked, picking up on how sneaky he was being.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Just a little something on…motherly instincts." He muttered the last part under his breath.

Molly broke out in laughter instantly. "Are you studying my interactions with Scott?"

His eyes shifted guiltily. Then he set about defending himself. "Don't start assuming I'm being sexist in these observations! This is purely science! We both know that there are scientifically proven biological differences between what happens with a man and woman when they become parents. Well, perhaps it would be telling to study the differences even in the case of something like adoption!"

Molly looked at Scott in her lap and spoke to him in a sing song voice. "Or perhaps some people simply have more natural skills with children!"

"Thus far my theories are proven. Mycroft even observed that Anthea enjoyed spending time with Scott as well!"

Molly gasped exaggeratedly, making Scott giggle. "I think I see the common denominator, Scott! The ones having trouble…are the Holmes men!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "I believe, Miss Hooper, that Scott is also a Holmes man."

Scott laughed some more and clapped his hands before snuggling against Molly again and reaching up to play with her hair. When Molly looked up, she saw Sherlock's expression had softened and it was obvious enough that it shocked her momentarily.

Sherlock looked away for a moment. What Molly had noticed hadn't been in her mind of course. That thing had happened again; that feeling in his chest when he watched Molly and Scott together. He decided it was probably something to make a note of…perhaps another biological response?

Whatever it was, it was definitely becoming a constant whenever the three of them were together.

* * *

"Ok…yeah, thanks for calling. No, I'm glad we talked! You can call anytime ok? You know I'm here dying for adult conversation anyway!" Mary said into the phone with a laugh as John came into the room and climbed into bed. "Ok, talk to you soon. Night!"

Mary set the phone on her nightstand and John immediately encircled her with his arms. She turned to wrap her arms around him as well. They enjoyed the silent moment for a while before John pulled his head away and looked at her. "Who was that?"

Mary propped her head on her arm. "Oh, it was Molly. I think she needed a bit of a vent."

John groaned. "What's Sherlock done? I'm not surprised to hear this!"

"No no!" Mary said with a chuckle. "It's not anything like that. It's more like things are…too good. I think Molly is realizing that she's in pretty deep. It's not hard to imagine. I mean, I know how I feel when I see you holding Lizzie, or even just caring about her. There's something  _really_  powerful about watching the man you love taking care of a baby or child." She scrunched her shoulders and sighed happily.

John laughed aloud. "Really? That powerful, yeah?" He ran a hand down her arm.

Mary gave him a knowing smile. "I'll tell you more about it soon." Her expression became more serious. "But first, I also wanted to tell you that um…I told Molly all about…everything."

John got her meaning right away. "Ah, I see," he said softly. "Did she ask?

Mary shook her head. "Not really. But she's putting herself out there, maybe in a lot more ways than she had in the past. And of course she's got worries, both for him and for herself. I thought she should understand,  _really_ understand why Sherlock did what he did back at Christmas. The drugs, killing Magnussen…everything."

"How'd she take it?" John asked, brushed some hair from Mary's face affectionately.

She pursed her lips and bobbed her head. "Well, I suppose she was momentarily shocked at the whole…I shot Sherlock thing. But she seemed to recover pretty quickly. Only took her a couple minutes." Mary pressed a quick but promising kiss to her husband's lips. "She took it better than some people I know."

John gave her a smirk. "Just keep thinking about me taking care of Lizzie, ok? Let's not ruin the mood."

Mary giggled and snuggled against his chest. "Well anyway, I thought she should know all of that. I mean, they need to trust each other. I know better than anyone that you can't have that trust if there's a bunch of secrets. And I think it made a difference. Molly seemed a bit relieved to have some of those missing puzzle pieces."

"Yeah, but will Sherlock be relieved? She'll probably talk with him." John rested his cheek on her hair, breathing in the comforting scent.

"I hope she does," Mary said with a yawn. "They need to talk. They've got to get some things out in the open. It's not just about being sorry for things…it's about sharing everything." She tilted her head up to look at John. "I know that life is better once you've done that. They deserve that too."

John nodded. "Yeah, I'd say they do." He kissed her forehead. "Everybody deserves this."

There was a little silence as the two of them contemplated the meaning of their lives now compared to the way things used to be. And they also thought about how close Sherlock and Molly were, if only they would take that little leap.

Mary finally reached over and switched the light off and was instantly surrounded by John's arms again. But he barely had time to dip his head down to kiss her…when Lizzie's cries echoed over the baby monitor.

John let out a frustrated groan against the skin of Mary's neck. She snorted out a little laugh and gave her husband a comforting hug.

"Everybody deserves this indeed," she said with a snicker. "Misery loves company!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Hi there! Come on in, you two," Mary said sweetly as she opened the door to Sherlock who was holding little Scott against his chest.

"John!" Sherlock called up the stairs of the Watson's flat as he walked in. "Lestrade needed us five minutes ago!"

"I'm coming!" John called back. "Relax! The dead body isn't going anywhere!"

"Hello, darling," Mary said, stroking Scott's cheek.

"Where's Mary?" Sherlock asked Scott softly.

Scott continued snuggling against his uncle, but did reach his little hand out and pointed to Mary who grinned and laughed.

"Wow, you know who I am!" She looked at Sherlock. "I haven't seen him in weeks, I'm surprised he knew me by name."

Sherlock smiled proudly. "That would be thanks to the brilliant work of Molly Hooper." He set Scott down on the floor and the little boy went for some of the toys Mary had set out. There were plenty that Lizzie was still too young to care about and had barely been touched yet.

"Oh really?" Mary said with a sly smile. "And what brilliant work was that?"

"Something Molly calls a 'family book.' She had one when she was younger, and she thought it would be helpful for Scott as well. It is essentially a photo album, but it's meant for a baby or small child, so it's a bit simpler. Each page has the picture of a family member or close friend, and their name. For some children, not everyone important in their life lives close by and is seen regularly. Simple facial recognition exercise to help reinforce social bonds."

"Oh, what a lovely idea!" Mary exclaimed. "And so sweet of Molly to do that for him."

"My mother was equally thrilled. Molly involved her in the process and they worked on the book together. Mummy was naturally the source of most of the photographs, including one of my late brother and one of his wife that had been included in some of their personal paperwork."

Mary nudged Sherlock a little. "Your mum must absolutely love Molly."

Sherlock gave her a sideways glance and frowned. "Molly is a remarkable scientist who has been essential to the well-being of her grandson. Of course Mummy likes her very much."

"Mmmhmm." Mary pursed her lips to keep her smile in check. "And how are you doing?" Mary asked more gently, giving his arm a little squeeze.

"Fine. Fine, I'm always fine, why do you ask?"

"Well, you did just lose your brother."

Sherlock's gaze shifted, nervously enough that Mary could pick up on it. "I lost my brother years ago," he answered quickly. "It doesn't exactly feel new."

"Ok, I'm ready," John announced, bounding down the stairs. "Where's Lizzie?"

"Still napping, so I'll be able to focus on Scott for a while. I think it'll be good practice," she said, watching the little boy driving a truck around the living room floor. "This will be like Lizzie in another year!"

John kissed Mary on the cheek. "Love you, and give Lizzie a kiss from me when she wakes up. We should be back in time for supper."

"Yes I think you'll be just in time…since you'll definitely be picking it up somewhere." Mary gave both men a grin. "I feel very sure I won't be able to whip up a meal while watching a toddler and taking care of my own infant."

"You might want to have a chat with Molly about that," Sherlock began, his face lighting up a bit. "It turns out that she is excellent at multi-tasking while caring for Scott. It's really quite remarkable."

John raised his eyebrows at Mary from behind Sherlock where he couldn't see.

"Mm," Mary said, nodding and trying not to react to the face her husband was making. "I'll have to um, get some pointers from her."

Sherlock bent down and kissed Scott on his forehead. Scott reached his little arms up, clearly hoping his uncle would take him along. He fussed a little when Sherlock stood and began walking away.

"You be good for your aunt Mary, Scott."

"Clock?" Scott questioned, looking mildly concerned. "Buh bye?"

"Yes, bye bye for now. Uncle Sherlock will be back in a few hours, all right? See you later!" Sherlock bent down one more time to give him the now customary bye bye kiss, and then he stood and made a quick exit with John.

Mary watched Scott's face as Sherlock left and she saw a very slight quiver in his lip. But she quickly bent down and took out some blocks that were decorated with various animals and numbers and letters. Distraction was key!

"Look at these, Scott! Oh boy, why don't we build a little something hm? Can you help your aunt Mary build a tower? We can show Lizzie when she gets up!" Mary smiled brightly and was relieved when she got a shy smile in return.

Mary was enjoying the adorable giggles from Scott as they built little towers and then knocked them over with the toy truck. But they were only able to do that for about ten minutes before Mary heard the sound of Lizzie crying upstairs through the monitor. Scott looked at her with wide eyes, clearly intrigued at the new sound.

"Well that does it, Scott," she said while getting up and taking his hand to lead him upstairs. "This afternoon is about to get a lot more interesting!"

* * *

Molly turned around the minute she heard the all too familiar deep voice speaking. She was kneeling beside the body discovered in a warehouse and collecting what information she needed before they could transport it to Bart's.

"Oh, hi!" Molly said, standing up and giving Sherlock a bright smile.

"Molly, hello." Sherlock smiled back at her, and John could have sworn that there was an intimacy in his expression, the likes of which he'd never noticed before. "Didn't realize you'd be here."

"Greg requested me since I was working anyway. How's Scott?"

Sherlock crouched down along with her and began looking over the body as he answered her. "He seems fine this week. And he did well over the weekend with my parents. They may take him for longer next time. He's with Mary and Lizzie right now."

"How nice!" Molly smiled at John. "Mary's got her hands full then, hasn't she?"

John laughed. "She'll probably announce we're never having any more children when I get home."

Sherlock glared at John. "Oh please!  _My_ nephew will probably only make her want more children!" he said proudly.

"Oh right!" John said, laughing even harder. "Because that was your reaction when you started taking care of him wasn't it?"

"Sherlock came around eventually," Molly said softly, looking at the detective through her lashes. He stared back at her for a brief moment before clearing his throat and looking back at the body.

"Let's focus on this case, shall we?" he said, with a slight crack in his voice.

A little while later, when John had a spare moment, he took out his mobile and fired off a text to Mary.

I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY THIS ABOUT SHERLOCK AND MOLLY…BUT THEY NEED TO GET A ROOM. –JW

* * *

"If you could come with me, that would be great," Greg said as they all strolled out of the warehouse a while later. "You know that crowd better than I do."

"Mm, I do. I'd be happy to come along." He glanced over at Molly who was coming out of the warehouse alongside the body bag being wheeled out. "Provided I can get someone to watch a certain small person."

"I'm still waiting for you to bring him by the station," Greg complained. "I love babies! The wife- ex-wife and I talked about having one. Guess it's a good thing we didn't though." He looked a little dejected for a moment.

"It is indeed," Sherlock stated frankly. "But I'll bring Scott by soon and let you, Donovan, and Anderson fall all over yourselves for a while. That should help. Either that or it'll speed up your biological clock!" He walked away as soon as he finished the sentence and left John and Greg to shake their heads and chuckle.

"Sherlock Holmes...family therapist!" John said and both he and Greg snorted out a laugh.

"Molly!" Sherlock called before she could climb into the ambulance. "Have a moment?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I imagine it's no longer a mystery when I ask if you're free on a certain day and time."

She chuckled. "When do you need me to watch Scott?"

"Lestrade wants me to go with him to bring in the suspect tomorrow night. It's a club and crowd that I'm more familiar with. You aren't working, are you?" he questioned, though he already knew she wasn't. But it was Friday night, so there was always the chance…

"No I'm not working. And of course I'll watch him," she said cheerfully. "What if I'm at your flat by six?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Molly." He smiled and turned to go.

"Wait, Sherlock," she called, making him stop. She hesitated, not wanting to sound like she was speaking out of place. But she just couldn't hold back. Especially given what she and Mary had discussed recently. "You're um…more cautious on cases now, right?" she asked nervously.

"How do you mean?"

"Taking care of yourself, Sherlock. Scott depends largely on you now, you can't just go around on cases without a care. I know that you've done for cases in the past." Her eyes were serious and guarded and it made his cheek tingle.

Surprisingly, Sherlock stepped closer and his expression became softer. "I'll never do that again, Molly, what I did last Autumn. Not for a case…not for anything."

Molly nodded and smiled, looking relieved. "Good. That's all I needed to know. Well um, I guess I'll just see you tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow," he agreed and turned to go once again with a flourish of his coat.

Molly stood frozen for a moment, watching him walk away. She realized how close they all came to losing him last year, more than once from what Mary made her understand. It was hard to breathe when she imagined him really going away forever and never returning to London. How could she have endured it? It still bothered her a little to know that he hadn't come to her for help in that instance.

She would have moved heaven and earth if it meant having him home.

* * *

Molly knocked to announce her presence and then let herself into 221B. She was greeted by the sight of Sherlock sitting in his chair with Scott nestled in his lap. Sherlock sighed in relief and set a book down on the floor.

"Olly!" Scott cried, a wide smile appearing on his little face that she immediately returned.

"Thank God you're here!" Sherlock said, standing up and placing Scott in her arms. "I've just had to read that book on space five times in a row! Why did you have to get that one for him?"

Molly giggled, amused by everything about this scene. "He loved it! Maybe he's going to be an astronomer!" she said hugging the little boy and kissing his head.

"He's obviously more interested in anatomy and chemistry," Sherlock said while donning his scarf and coat. "You should have seen the gleam in his eyes when I gave him that Grey's Anatomy coloring book!"

Molly raised an eyebrow at him as she threw her bag and coat on the couch. "A coloring book? Already?"

"He was plenty entertained by the pictures. He'll be coloring and reading it in no time," Sherlock said confidently.

Molly bounced Scott in her arms and spoke sweetly to him while strolling over to Sherlock by the door. "Your uncle has big plans for you! If you're not experimenting on body parts by the time you're in primary school, I think he'll be awfully disappointed." She pressed exaggeratedly noisy kisses to Scott's cheek and bent over, dipping him down backward. Scott giggled and held tight to Molly's neck as he enjoyed the ride.

Sherlock smiled lazily at the two of them, almost sorry to walk out of the flat. But he was definitely thrilled at the prospect of chasing down a suspect, so it was time to make an exit.

"He probably didn't have supper," Molly commented. She didn't really need to pose it as a question.

Sherlock laughed indignantly. "He did eat recently. He had some...biscuits."

Molly nodded and smiled. "Right, so like I said, he hasn't had supper. It's fine, I'll make sure he eats."

"Thank you," Sherlock said, more sincerely. He did honestly appreciate the help he was getting. He knew full well that he still fell short in many areas of childcare, despite being more comfortable with his nephew these days.

Scott reached out to Sherlock and he obliged, taking his nephew into his arms. "Uncle Sherlock's got to go out again today. You stay and have fun with Molly, all right? Bye bye."

His tone was so tender that Molly actually felt a little lump in her throat as Sherlock leaned in and pressed a kiss to Scott's little cheek. Scott responded by giving Sherlock a messy kiss in return, and then Sherlock went to hand him over back to Molly. But Scott whined and clung to his uncle. "No no!" Scott said firmly. "Buh bye!"

"Yes, bye bye," Sherlock repeated. "I'm leaving, Scott, bye bye." He gave Scott another little kiss on the cheek, hoping to appease him.

"Buh bye! Buh bye!" Scott kept saying, still reluctant to leave Sherlock's arms and wearing a frowny face. "Olly buh bye!"

"I'm not going anywhere, darling," Molly said gently, trying to ease him out of Sherlock's arms. "I'm staying with you. Why don't we let Uncle Sherlock go now?"

Scott pushed Molly's hands away and spoke insistently to Sherlock. "Buh bye Olly! Buh bye Olly!"

The lightning bolt of realization hit Sherlock all at once and he couldn't help but smile a little.  _Clever little boy._ Sherlock felt his heart do double time for a moment, and he would have been lying if he said it wasn't a pleasant sort of rush.

Molly continued trying to reason kindly with the toddler. "Scott, let's look at your books, hm? And what would you like for supper? I could make you some-" But Molly's words were frozen mid-sentence.

Sherlock suddenly leaned in close to her, placing his hand on one cheek…and pressing a warm kiss to the other. Molly's eyes shut for a second, desperately trying to enjoy this unexpected moment that was sadly over by the time she realized it had begun. He pulled away rather slowly, staring into her eyes as he did and wearing a playful smirk.

"Bye bye, Molly," he whispered, and let his hand slip away from her face.

"Buh bye, Olly!" Scott repeated, this time in a gleeful voice. He was suddenly very obliging when Sherlock placed him in Molly's arms. He patted her cheeks and giggled. "Olly red!"

Molly pressed her lips together to control the amused and embarrassed smile as she felt her face heat up even more than it already was.

"Very good, Scott. Molly…red." Sherlock grinned at her and he definitely looked a little pleased with himself. He opened the door and as he stepped through it, he added, "Oh, did I mention? I also got him a book about colors. I'd say he's learning fast." He gave her one more smile before closing the door behind him.

Molly exhaled slowly, puffing the air out with wide eyes as she listened to Sherlock's footsteps descending the stairs. She laughed and looked at Scott. "What am I going to do with you, little man? If you keep this up, you're going to get me in a lot of trouble!"

* * *

Sherlock stepped into his flat some hours later, closed the door, and immediately rested his back against it as he shut his eyes and controlled his breathing, trying to focus on the fact that he was home. He was home and safe and everything would be fine now. He tugged the scarf off his neck and winced as he did so. The coat came off next and was flung on the nearest piece of furniture. He kicked off his shoes as he trudged into the kitchen. He jumped a little as he came face to face with Molly who was coming down the hall.

"Oh, Sherlock, hi. I thought I heard the door." She struggled to see him clearly in the dim lighting coming from a small lamp in the living room.

Sherlock took a couple of steps forward, staring back at her. "Molly," he finally said softly, his voice hoarse. "I need to see Scott."

Molly opened her mouth to explain that Scott had been sleeping for a while, but Sherlock had already made his way past her and gone into the bedroom. She followed after him, and by the time she walked in Sherlock was picking Scott up from the playpen. There was something about Sherlock's demeanor that told Molly to keep her mouth shut and refrain from protesting. She padded into the room slowly and crept up closer to Sherlock who was now holding the drowsy little boy tightly against his chest.

"Sherlock?" she questioned softly. "What is it?"

He turned ever so slightly, causing the outside street lamps cast some more light on him. When Molly saw him more clearly, her jaw dropped and eyes got wide. She instinctively stepped forward and lightly touched the obvious red marks around his neck.

She took a sharp intake of breath, but the doctor took over. She made to remove Scott from his arms to examine him better, but he held on fast.

Her eyes met his in silent question.

He looked at her, his eyes glistening a little in the light. "We got him." He had to stop and clear his throat. "Though he also caught me off guard momentarily."

"Are you alright? Were you checked by a doctor?" Molly demanded in an almost maternal tone.

Sherlock nodded. "There was an ambulance on the scene afterward. I'll be fine," he said quickly, but the look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Molly hadn't removed her hand completely and she touched his skin again. "Are you in pain?" she whispered while examining his face.

Sherlock shook his head in answer. He leaned his cheek on the curly head resting on his shoulder and shut his eyes. A moment later he walked away from the playpen and reclined on his bed, leaving Scott lying peacefully on his chest. Molly followed after him, standing at the side of the bed and watching him with mounting concern. She'd never seen him quite like this. Well, she supposed she had seen a similar look in his eyes once before…when he told her he might die.

Molly was about to tell him she could leave if he'd like to get some rest, but his hand shot out and took hold of her wrist.

"Would you stay?" he asked, looking up at her with those pleading eyes. "Just for a few minutes?"

Molly nodded immediately, knowing that there was almost nothing she'd refuse him at a moment like this. She sat down on the edge of the bed as Sherlock scooted over. He rolled Scott onto the bed between himself and where Molly was now reclined. She glanced over at Sherlock as he lay on his side now and watched his nephew sleeping. Suddenly though, he looked over at her.

"What would have happened if I hadn't come back tonight?" he whispered.

What struck Molly was that this was definitely not a rhetorical question. He was asking,  _really asking,_  and looked ready to cling to whatever her answer was.

She swallowed hard and licked her lips, knowing that she could be nothing but honest with him. "I- I don't know, Sherlock," she whispered back. "I just know that…nothing would ever be the same without you." Her voice broke ever so slightly and she bit her lip to keep it from visibly shaking.

Sherlock's eyes darted back to Scott and he shook his head very slightly. "What if- if I weren't here for him?" He looked at Molly again. "Would he be all right?"

Molly tried to smile a little, wanting to offer any bit of comfort she could. "Yes. I'd make sure he was. Try not to worry right now though, Sherlock. He's fine and you're fine. You should just try to get some rest," she said while softly rubbing Scott's back as he stirred a little in his sleep.

Sherlock nestled into his pillow a little more and his expression softened and relaxed, looking like he was going to try and follow Molly's counsel. Molly felt drowsy as well and let her eyelids drift closed a minute later. But a moment after, her eyes shot open as she felt Sherlock's hand cover over hers on Scott's back. Their eyes connected for what seemed like an eternity before Sherlock actually opened his mouth and spoke.

"Thank you," he said in a still hoarse whisper.

"I didn't do anything," Molly whispered back, wanting so badly to turn her hand over and close her fingers around his.

He closed his eyes before answering softly. "You stayed."

Molly watched him closely and soon saw his respirations slow and shoulders slack a little. She was more than moved by the obvious emotions that this supposed machine of a man was experiencing tonight. After a few minutes passed and he was most definitely sleeping peacefully, Molly began to feel a bit sleepy again herself. She couldn't help from leaning forward and pressing her lips very lightly to his cool hand for just a moment before laying her head back on the pillow and closing her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep she couldn't help but think about what Sherlock had asked. What would happen if he didn't come home one day?

_I would not be all right._


	7. Chapter 7

John glanced at Sherlock across the cab's backseat. Sherlock was being awfully quiet today. Not to say that Sherlock didn't tend to clam up from time to time, but it didn't usually happen on cases. Today they'd been working with Greg, and there was plenty of action to be enjoyed too. But still, Sherlock was strangely quiet.

"How's your uh, neck?" John asked, interested to get him talking.

"Fine," Sherlock answered, not looking away from the window.

John nodded. He sat there for another moment, trying to come up with some other bit of conversation in order to get a feel for where Sherlock's head was at. But just as he was about to ask when Scott would be back at Baker Street next, Sherlock whirled to face him and suddenly released the floodgates.

"How do you manage it, John? How?" he demanded. "You work with me. We do dangerous things; stupid things sometimes! You could actually die, and surely you know that. Every time you leave your flat and kiss Mary and Lizzie goodbye, that could be your last. They might never see you again, and you take that risk. How do you do that and still walk about functioning like a normal man?"

John stared wide eyed at his friend. He blinked and frowned as he tried to process this speech. "Are you um…trying to get me to quit?" he asked with a smirk.

Sherlock sighed. "I just don't understand it…how anyone can have a true balance." He pointed at John while speaking his point firmly. "I was right all along, you know! Relationships, sentiment…they are absolutely a distraction!"

John chuckled at the emotions clearly bubbling at the surface of Sherlock's heart. "So, what are you asking me? I'm not really sure what you want to know."

Sherlock spoke slowly and pointedly. "How do you live with the work that we do, all the while knowing that it could take you from the people who matter the most?"

John shrugged and shook his head. "It's um, it's actually really hard, Sherlock," he said softly. "I won't lie and say it's not. I suppose it's just about being as careful and smart as possible. You know, not taking quite as many risks. Because I do think about that. I don't want to leave one day and then never come home to them." He drew a deep breath and looked off in the distance as if finding a long lost memory. "It was different when I was in the army. I felt like there was nothing really for me to come home to. If I didn't make it back, I just hoped I'd have done something worthwhile…that my death would mean something, you know?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I know," he whispered. "That's what I always thought. There's been more than one time in my life that I had firmly believed my death was worth more than my life. And now…I don't feel the same."

"Scott," John said simply, summing up the point of the entire conversation.

Sherlock went on. "When I was in that warehouse last week, the life being choked out of me, all I could think about was that I wanted to get home. I  _needed_  to get home to them. And I knew I'd been at fault. Lestrade and I had split up, but we agreed to alert the other person if we found the suspect…but I didn't. I saw him and went in the room even though I knew Lestrade was down the hall and unaware. The suspect was…surprisingly strong. The only reason Lestrade knew to come find me was that I used my last bit of consciousness to slam my own head against the wall. Lestrade heard it, came running, and I was saved." The detective stopped and looked out the window again.

"But now you're afraid of putting your life at risk?"

"I don't want to be, but I am." Sherlock looked disappointed with himself. "I care far too much now."

John marvelled at his friend. Sherlock was not a man that easily admitted his own weakness, nor was one that at the beginning of their acquaintance would have ever admitted to being anything but strictly empirical in all his life choices. He smiled to himself and recalled the words of Greg Lestrade many years before. It was clear now, and had been for some time actually, that Sherlock Holmes was not only a great man anymore. He was a good man.

"Sherlock," John began cautiously. "I can't tell you what to do. I mean, lots of people deal with this sort of thing every day. Anyone who works in a job that carries risks and also has people in their life they care about is bound to feel this way from time to time. All I can tell you is that it's normal. This is what normal people feel. It's terrifying to think that some little person's world would come crashing down if you didn't walk through the door again. It's a burden to carry. But it's worth carrying, because the alternative is just…loneliness."

Sherlock shrugged and said bitterly, "Loneliness is a bit simpler though."

"Also rather destructive," John said pointedly. "Either way, you're in some danger. But trust me when I say that  _this_ is the better life. This is the better risk to live with."

Sherlock closed his eyes and pressed his steepled fingers to his lips. He knew John was right. But this was just all so foreign. These were feelings that he wasn't used to living with day in and day out.

"Sherlock, you said 'get home to  _them_.' Who did you mean?" John asked, already pretty sure what the answer would be.

"Oh." Sherlock's eyes flew open again. "Well um, Molly was watching Scott so…I suppose that's why I said 'them.'"

"Mm, I see," John said thoughtfully. "But I mean, it is understandable if you didn't want to die and leave Molly either. She is your friend after all."

"Of course she's a friend," Sherlock answered, far too quickly. "Just like you and Mary. I certainly wouldn't want to leave any of you unless I had to."

"Right."

"Right."

Another silence, and John added, "So is Scott back with you soon?"

"Another few days. I think that's probably about all Mycroft can handle. Anthea's going to demand a pay raise soon!" Sherlock chuckled maniacally. But then something dawned on him. "John…should I be paying Molly to watch Scott?"

John grimaced. "I don't know, mate. You probably should have asked her that right away when she started helping you out. Maybe she just feels like she's doing a friendly favor for you, or maybe she's hoping you'll offer. You've got to actually ask her if you want to be sure. I can't give you the answer to this one!"

The cab came to a halt outside John's flat and he gave Sherlock some money for the fare before stepping out.

"John," Sherlock said, stopping him short. "Thank you."

John nodded. "Sure, Sherlock. You know you can talk to me any time you like. Mary and I are both always here if you need us."

The cab drove off and John laughed a little to himself as he went in his flat. He filed that experience under, 'Conversations I Never Thought I'd Have With Sherlock Holmes.'

* * *

"My apologies, Dr. Hooper. I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't especially urgent," Mycroft said sincerely as he handed Scott over.

"No no, it's fine! I'm not sure where Sherlock is, but I'm sure I'll track him down before the day is over. Good thing this was a day off for me!"

"I have a general idea of Sherlock's location and I'm guessing he's on some sort of a case which requires stealth. He must have switched his mobile off temporarily. Sadly it happens to be a day when our parents are also rather busy. Scheduled appointments and errands out of the house, and they're somewhat useless with their mobile phones," Mycroft huffed in annoyance.

"So, will you be out of the country long?" Molly asked, setting Scott in the car seat.

Mycroft rocked on his heels and looked hesitant. "It's…difficult to say. I'll surely return as soon as I'm able. But the urgent business is such that I can't say for certain how long it will take."

"It's all right," Molly said brightly. "I know you can't tell me all the government secrets! I just thought I'd pass it on to Sherlock if you knew when you'd be back."

"You can tell him I'll be in touch as soon as possible," Mycroft said, his expression serious.

"Ok sure." Molly glanced into the car. "Say bye bye to uncle Myc!"

"Ja matte ne, Scott." Mycroft gave him a formal little wave.

"Ja!" Scott excitedly copied his uncle the best he could.

Molly laughed to herself as she got in the car and drove off. It was endlessly entertaining to watch either of the grown Holmes men interacting with this little boy.

* * *

Sherlock brushed the dust from his hair and took out his mobile. His eyes immediately doubled in size and he began furiously dialing Molly's number.

"Hi, Sherlock," she answered cheerily.

Sherlock almost instantly heard the babbling of Scott in the background and that calmed his racing pulse a bit. His voice still conveyed lingering panic when he spoke though. "Molly, what happened? I can't believe I silence my mobile for all of two hours and that's when there's an emergency! My mobile is full of calls and texts from both you and Mycroft!"

"Sherlock, it's fine," Molly said with a little laugh. "Scott and I have been having a lovely time at the Yard. I decided to stop by and see if they knew where you were today, or if you were with Greg. But now Scott's just been enjoying himself with all our friends here. Isn't that right, Scott? Yes, you say hello to Uncle Clock."

Sherlock's lips lifted as he heard the heavy toddler breathing and Molly's continued prompting to say something. "Hello, Scott!" he initiated.

"Clock!" Scott finally answered and then giggled.

"Are you having fun with Molly? I'll see you soon, all right?"

"Ja! Bye bye!" Scott said happily. Sherlock heard the phone being transferred back to Molly.

"I think he's done with you for now," Molly said with a laugh.

"I'll get a cab and be there in just a few minutes. Unfortunately though, I'm still on a case. It required a very high level of stealth and silence."

"Oh my." Molly's tone turned serious. "Very dangerous suspect then?"

"Not exactly. Very difficult to catch though…it's a cat."

"What?!"

"Mm. A very wealthy woman's cat was stupid enough to eat some loose diamonds that she even more stupidly left on her dresser. I'm sure you can guess that the cat then felt it was the perfect time to escape out the window and have a romp around the city. I'm racing against the clock in order to catch him before he has to..." Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, you know."

Molly was snorting laughing by this point.

"You wouldn't laugh if you knew how much this idiot wants to pay me to find her diamond filled cat!" Sherlock said, but was definitely stifling a laugh himself. "Nappies aren't free!"

Molly sighed as her laughter subsided. "It's fine, don't worry about us. Why don't you just stay on the case and I'll take Scott back to Baker Street after this. You can take over whenever you find that poor cat."

"Well thank you." Sherlock's gratitude was evident in his tone. The more time went on, he wondered how he'd ever manage to do this without Molly Hooper. "I suppose you're right, I shouldn't take a break now. Might miss my chance to find the stupid animal! I'll see you back at Baker Street then."

"Yes, I'll see you later. Bye bye," she said in a sing song voice, clearly for Scott's benefit.

"Goodbye, Molly." Sherlock's softer tone…was for his benefit alone.

* * *

"Scott, we're making quite a mess," Molly said in a mildly scolding voice.

Scott was very much into bringing people things. He was forever finding a book or a toy or even a small household item and bringing it to them and announcing "look look!" excitedly, before toddling off soon after to return with another thrilling find. Molly found that she was a little tired this evening and it was all she could do to keep up with Scott's level of enthusiasm. So she figured that if Sherlock ended up with a pile of things in his living room upon his return home, well him cleaning it up would just have to be Molly's payment for watching Scott. She certainly wasn't ever going to expect anything monetary. Which they'd recently established during an awkward conversation as she was elbow deep in a dead man's chest.

Sherlock had shuffled into the morgue looking clearly uncomfortable, and after she pushed him to just tell her why he was actually there taking up her time, he blurted out that he'd like to offer her some sort of 'compensation' for her help with Scott. Molly actually laughed aloud. She told him quite honestly that the thought had never crossed her mind. She explained that he was a friend and she wanted to help, just as she'd told him before. But she made it very clear now that he owed her nothing monetary in return.

Scott tackled hugged her as she was remembering this, and it solidified the point. This was what she wanted. This was all she needed, and she'd never ask anything else from Sherlock. She loved Sherlock, and by extension had quickly grown to love his little nephew. What more could she want than to enjoy time with both of them and help to make them happy?

Molly blew some loud raspberry kisses on Scott's cheek, making him squeal in laughter before rushing down the hall again, clearly looking for something else to bring back to her.

She spared a moment to check her mobile before needing to play her part of the game again. She was becoming engrossed in a couple of entertaining cat videos on Facebook when suddenly a large envelope was dropped on her lap, the contents partially spilling onto her legs and the floor.

"Oh, Scott, I don't think this is a toy," she said while looking at the smaller envelopes that had fallen out of the larger one. "Where did you find this? Uncle Clock might not want you grabbing papers." But as Molly spoke, she glanced down and saw something that caught her attention. She saw her own name on one of the smaller envelopes.

"Um, Scott, want to watch something?" she asked excitedly, hoping to entertain him for a few minutes so she could at least get a clue as to what she'd just discovered. She scooted over and turned the telly onto a children's channel and Scott was instantly fascinated by the animals featured on screen.

Molly sat on the floor again and gingerly began picking up some of the things strewn about. There was a bunch of small white envelopes inside this larger brown one, and there was also a handwritten note that lay on the floor. She couldn't help but look at the simple message before replacing it in the large envelope.

_Brother mine,_

_I trust we have no need for these now. I'll leave it to you to do what you like with them. I took the liberty of disposing my own letter though. I think there's hardly a need for me to read it…welcome back._

_Mycroft_

Molly frowned as she stuck the sheet of paper back where it had been. And then she picked up the envelope that had her name written on the front. That was Sherlock's writing, she was positive. She glanced at a couple of the other white envelopes on the floor. John Watson, Mary Watson, Baby Watson, and Mrs. Hudson were a few that caught her eye. Apparently Sherlock had written letters to all these people…but then Mycroft said they weren't needed anymore? She bit her lip, staring at her scripted name and agonizing over what to do next.

It took her less than a minute to break down and lift flap of the enveloped that was tucked in but thankfully not actually sealed. She gingerly lifted a sheet of stationary out and unfolded it. Something made her heart speed up even as she read the opening line…

_My Dear Molly,_

_This letter will no doubt come as a bit of a surprise to you. Partly because you've certainly never known me to be fond of correspondence, but also because the delivery of this letter will have come with some news about me. If you're reading this, then you know that I am now dead._

_As is the case with many of my friends who are also receiving their own letters, I fear that you will question the truth of this news. You are well aware that I've tricked others before, and perhaps you're imagining this is yet another ruse. Perhaps you are right now hoping that I'll show up unexpectedly one day soon. I am sorry to tell you that this is not like before. I am most certainly dead if my brother has done his duty and delivered these letters to my friends and family. Unfortunately, it was always going to be like this. My brother and I both knew I'd be dead within six months when I got on that plane and left London. I know enough to understand that this will hurt you. But please understand that the alternative of a life in prison would have been far worse to me. Strange as it may seem to you, Mycroft has done me a great kindness. Perhaps this offers some comfort._

_This is a time when many in my position would go on and on about the things they regret and how they wish it could have been. It would certainly be fitting at this moment, because I do have regrets, Molly. I have regrets when it comes to you. But I've thought long and hard, and I have decided that it's best I carry those details with me. The things I want are things I can no longer even hope to have, and sharing them with you would do nothing to change that. Besides, I can't help but wonder if you would take me at my word. Or would you perhaps assume this was some sort of guilt offering? So in the interest of keeping things honest but simply, I will say only this- I wanted more. More of many things, and I did not want to leave you. That's what I'd like you to remember._

_Molly, I come now to the part where I say goodbye. I am struck with how difficult that is. I'll be honest and tell you that I've gotten up and walked away from this letter five times already. I find it hard to say goodbye to a friend who would never abandon me, who would do anything to help me. It is in your nature to be kind and to care for others, and I have been the undeserving recipient of so much of your kindness over the years. And even your love. So I find it difficult to tell you that I'll never see you, hear you, or speak to you again. It feels as if I'm doing what you would never think of doing to me. Walking away. It's best done like this in a letter, because you would have fought me in person. We both know you would have. It makes me smile a little to imagine that._

_So I suppose there's little left to say now except, goodbye, Molly. Goodbye and thank you for being a dear and loyal friend. I hope you live a long and happy life, as you do so deserve it._

_Love,_

_Sherlock_

Molly let the paper flutter down onto her lap as she held both hands over her mouth, trying desperately to choke back her sobs without letting Scott notice. Her face was soaked with tears, and some had even fallen on the letter. But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment except for the fact that she almost lost him. Her world had almost come crashing down, and this letter would have been the beginning of it. These words that were meant to be read after he was cold and lifeless; it was chilling and horrifying. All she wanted right then…was to see him.

* * *

Sherlock opened the door of his flat and was greeted by mostly darkness and silence. He stepped inside and closed the door, but jumped a little when he realized that Molly was sitting there on the couch.

"Ah, Molly! Cat found, crisis averted, and payment received! I believe even Toby wouldn't be that much of an idiot!" he said with a small smile as he threw off his coat and gloves. But his smile quickly faded as he looked at her a bit more closely. Her eyes, they were moist and puffy. Fear gripped him, but he quickly realized this wasn't about Scott. There was no panic, and she hadn't attempted to contact him while he was out. She would have if this were about Scott. So it had to be something to do with her. "Molly?"

Molly got up from where she sat, looking tired as she did so. She picked up a piece of paper, holding it out to him with still teary eyes. Sherlock took it from her and had to look closely to see what he was holding. But once he did-

"Oh," he said, the word cracking as it came out…almost like the walls that were meant to keep in secrets.

Molly took a couple of steps forward, bringing her face into clearer focus. The pain was etched deep in her features, making it difficult for him to look right at her.

"Sherlock," she whispered. "My God…is this real? Is this really what I would eventually have gotten if you'd left?"

He took a deep breath and finally nodded. "Yes," he answered solemnly.

A fresh bunch of tears sprung free and Molly swiped at her eyes almost angrily.

"I-I never meant for you to find that…obviously." Sherlock sighed loudly and ran a hand through his curls. "Honestly, I have no idea why I was stupid enough to have kept them for this long. Perhaps I shouldn't have written them in the first place! A simple 'Sherlock is dead' surely would have done fine. My brother could have done that without hand written letters!" He pressed his lips together, looking upset at himself. "I am sorry," he said quietly. He almost had that same look of disappointment that he wore on the fateful Christmas night many years ago.

Molly frowned up at him. "Do you think I'm angry at you? For writing this?"

Sherlock's eyes darted back and forth for a moment before answering cautiously. "You are…upset, aren't you?"

"I'm not angry at you, Sherlock. I'm hurt. But I'm  _hurt for you._  You would have-" Molly stopped and he could see her lip quivering. "I just can't believe that you almost…" She stared up at him helplessly, unable to come up with anything close to a full sentence.

Just when Sherlock was preparing to sooth her with something like,  _oh don't worry about me, I'm perfectly fine now,_ she surprised him yet again.

Molly suddenly closed the gap between them and lifted herself on tiptoes in order to wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders. It wasn't just a hug. She  _clung_ to him, like he was the very difference between life and death. There was nothing hesitant or restrained about it. He could feel her fingertips digging in even through the fabric of his suit, and she pressed her face into the side of his neck, making him feel her every respiration against his skin.

Sherlock took a moment to register all of that before he realized that his own arms were still hanging in limbo. For a split second he was afraid she'd let go and he'd leave her with the impression that a hug like this was completely repulsive. But thankfully he didn't miss his chance since Molly was in no hurry to release him. Sherlock quickly wrapped his arms around her torso and threw himself into hugging her back…definitely not repulsive.

"We almost lost you," she finally said, muffled against his suit collar.

"I know." He couldn't think what else to say, and there was no point in sugar-coating anything now.

Molly pulled back and looked up at him, but stayed close enough to keep holding him tight. "I hate that you had to deal with that all alone. I  _hate it,"_  she practically growled. "I would have been there for you, I would have helped, I- I-"

"Yes, you would have. I know that," he said firmly, looking into her eyes so he could really be sure she understood. He could see that she did. Not just because of what he was saying now, but also because of what he wrote in that letter. _Oh God…that letter_. He couldn't help but wonder if it revealed a bit too much. He'd been disgustingly sentimental while writing all of them…

Molly sniffled and suddenly looked embarrassed as she released him and let her arms slide away from his neck. "Sorry, I um, I just got a bit emotional and…I didn't mean to um-"

"It's all right, Molly." He meant it. Even more than his words let on. It wasn't just all right. It was one of the best feelings he'd experienced in a long time. He felt like she was holding him together for those brief moments, keeping the pieces in place…or maybe even filling in the missing ones. "Why don't we sit?"

They settled on the couch and Molly fiddled with the corner of the letter that Sherlock had set on the coffee table again. "Oh, and by the way, Scott found that envelope. He went in your room and just came back with it." She laughed nervously. "I wasn't um, going through your things."

Sherlock cracked a smile. "An unwise choice on my part to stick it between some book on the bottom of my nightstand. I should know by now to keep everything above knee level."

Molly smiled too, relieved that the conversation was lightening a bit. Though there was something still weighing on her mind. "There's no chance that they'd try to…send you away again, right?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't think so. The supposed return of Moriarty was enough to convince the government that they still needed me for something. At least, it was enough for Mycroft to convince them."

Molly let out a heavy sigh and rested her forehead in her palm. "Thank God for Mycroft," she said earnestly. "And I take it that everyone who's name was on a letter doesn't know, just like I didn't."

His weighty silence was answer enough.

Molly fell back against the couch and closed her eyes for a moment. She felt like she'd added ten years to her life. She'd been given a dose of fear and grief tonight that she'd never been meant to experience. The only thing worse would have been if it were real.

"You can stay," he said softly.

This made her eyes fly open and her head shoot back upright. "Oh no, that's all right. I just, I was a little overwhelmed. I'm fine now, really." She gave him a little smile, trying to prove her point.

"If you're sure."

She nodded. But she spared a brief moment to cover his hand with hers before standing up again. Molly had no idea that if she'd kept her hand there for a split second longer, he would have been holding it tight.

"Oh and Molly," Sherlock added as he followed her to the door. "The letters for the others…I can't say for sure that I'll ever tell them the truth. But if they do hear it, it should come from me. I'm sure you would at least agree with that. I would very much appreciate it if you could keep the existence of those letters to yourself."

She gave him a half smile as she answered in a whisper. "What letters?" Molly started to turn, but stopped herself, seeming to think of something else that needed saying. "Um, thank you, by the way. I'm not saying that it would have made everything ok or taken away the pain…but thank you for the things you said. It meant, um, quite a lot."

Sherlock could only nod stoically. He shied away from getting into the details of his written words. But there was a part of him that was pleased to know she appreciated the gesture. He made a last second decision and turned to grab her letter off the table, then held it out to her. "You should keep it. It was meant for you anyway," he murmured.

Molly felt emotion welling up again as she looked at him holding the letter out to her, almost like he was offering something far more than a piece of paper. "Thank you," she managed to answer as she took it and put it in her bag. "Well…goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Molly clutched her bag tighter than usual as she left the flat, knowing what was inside. It was a bit silly actually. She could have walked away and left it. She could have destroyed it even; burned it in the fire right then and there, never to set eyes on it again. It wouldn't have mattered.

The words were already seared into her heart.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh, hello, darling!" Mrs. Holmes cooed at Scott as Sherlock came through the door holding him. She looked at her son. "Mike still out of the country, is he? He hasn't even called me once. It's been weeks!"

Sherlock set Scott's bags down. "You're probably not missing much, Mummy. Although we could certainly use him here," he said with a sigh. "I can only hand Scott over to you two for so long. Doesn't leave me with much time to work."

His mother didn't respond, but instead addressed her grandson. "You want a biscuit, Scott? Your grandpa and I have been baking all morning! Why don't you go try one with him, hm?"

"Yes, come along, Scott," Mr. Holmes said, taking the tiny little hand and leading him into the kitchen.

Once the eldest and youngest Holmes had left the room, Mrs. Holmes turned to look at her son. "Sit down, Sherlock," she indicated to the space on the couch beside her, looking ready to speak her mind. "You know we can't carry on like this, don't you? This can't be that boy's life forever-shuffled around week to week like some sort of travelling minstrel."

Sherlock frowned at his mother. "Shouldn't you be talking to Mycroft about this?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm talking to  _you_  about it. Scott needs something permanent and stable. What's going to happen when he starts school? Send him to boarding school, then?"

Sherlock scowled. "Absolutely not."

"Then what are we going to do about it?"

Mrs. Holmes stared down her son, a determined look on her face, and Sherlock could read more than a little regret there as well. The Holmes boys knew very well the effects of boarding schools and the entire family would rather avoid that type of fate for Scott.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Molly had...mentioned similar concerns."

Mrs. Holmes smirked. "Yes, well, she's a smart woman, that one. One we'll have to also speak about, since-"

Sherlock put a hand up, halting her. "Mummy, I think it's best if we stay on the topic of Scott for now."

"And I am," she said firmly. "The truth is that a decision about Scott's permanent home is very largely affected by Molly Hooper."

Sherlock cocked his head, waiting for her to clarify.

"Obviously your father and I are in no position to raise a child. I've already done it, and it was challenging enough in my thirties! We cannot possibly manage it at this stage in life. Oh, we could do some weekends and holidays and such, but no more than that. That leaves you boys. Sherlock, you have to see that you have something Mycroft does not. Molly Hooper makes you the more suitable permanent home for Scott. You've done a marvelous job, dear, don't get me wrong, but I'm sure you realize that Molly is quickly becoming a fixture in Scott's life. He's mad for her, and she loves that boy…just as much as the rest of us."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and clasped his hands in his lap, reading very well what his mother was implying. "So, Molly and I are to enter into a permanent arrangement to provide stability for Scott. I believe that's what you're not-so-subtly suggesting."

"Suggesting? No. I'm no fool, Sherlock," she said with a knowing look. "Don't try to tell me that you don't already look at Molly and Scott…and see your family."

Sherlock's smirk faded and he swallowed hard.

"At any rate," Mrs. Holmes went on. "Whether you are  _with_ Molly or not, your friendship with her still makes you the best person to care for Scott. As I said, she's a fixture in his life. He knows she'll be there any time he's with you. That means something to a small child; it's a security. And God knows that boy shouldn't have to lose anything else." The older woman looked down at her lap and pressed her lips together.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment before carefully placed his hand over hers. He spoke softly, but with a voice full of conviction. "Scott won't have to lose anything else, I'll make sure of it. Of course his home can be with me, if that's what's best for him. I've been willing to do that for quite some time now. And you're right, Molly loves him. So, in one way or another, she'll continue to be there for him." He paused for a moment, a far off look in his eyes. "And there is nothing more sure than the loyalty of Molly Hooper."

Mrs. Holmes's lips spread in a smile. "Yes, I know," she said softly. "Glad to hear you see that so clearly."

"Clock! Clock!" Scott came rushing back into the room, holding out a chocolate biscuit for his uncle.

Sherlock leaned down and took a bite from the treat Scott's hand. "Hm" he hummed loudly as he made a show of considering the baked good. "Good texture, the correct balance of sweetness though perhaps a bit heavy handed with the butter." He smirked at his nephew. "A shame I don't eat on cases, or I'd take them with me!" He picked Scott up and ticked him for a minute, making him giggle and squirm. "You have fun, and I'll see you in a few days, all right?"

"Bye bye," Scott said in his sweet little voice, prompting Sherlock to lean down and give him the traditional kiss on the cheek, which Scott happily returned.

Mrs. Holmes walked Sherlock to the door and gave her son a hug. "Let me know if you hear from your brother. You know I worry."

For the first time, Sherlock didn't roll his eyes when he heard his mother comment about worrying. He could only imagine his level of panic if a day came when he didn't know where Scott was or what he was up to. It was possible that compared to him, Molly would end up being the one who stayed cool and collected! How picture perfect she always was in a crisis. Strong and brave, while staying steady and calm…Sherlock shook himself from his thoughts and realized his pulse had begun to race. He righted himself, said goodbye to his mother, and left his family home.

He took the long way back to London. It seemed he needed to clear his head.

* * *

A couple of days later, John and Mary Watson nearly jumped out of their skin when a consulting detective barged into their flat during breakfast.

"John! John!" he called out, announcing his presence.

John made a face at Mary and shook his head. "Sherlock, we're in here," he called back.

Sherlock stopped at the doorway, leaning on the frame and looking out of breath. "John…I think I'm ill," he announced breathlessly.

Mary covered her mouth with a napkin, trying to hide her giggles at the drama queen.

John stared back at him for a moment before clearing his throat. "Right, well uh, I guess we could go in the other room and you can um, tell me what's bothering you. How's that?"

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. "Wonderful, thank you, John." He left the doorway and headed down the hall.

John turned slowly to his wife who was still red in the face from containing her laughter. "Give me strength," he said under his breath before giving Lizzie a kiss and exiting the kitchen.

When he walked into the living room, Sherlock was laid out with legs up on their couch. John rolled his eyes momentarily and then took a seat. "So," he started out, patting the arms on his chair. "What's going on? What do you think you're ill with?"

Sherlock let out a slow breath as he continued staring up at the ceiling. "It's difficult to say. Obviously I felt the need to come to an expert!"

"Well, I'll…do what I can. So, can you tell me what you're experiencing then? Are you having consistent symptoms?"

The patient sat bolt upright at that point and looked intently at John. "Yes, and they've been going on for some time now. But lately they've gotten worse. I'll have rapid respiration and pulse, increased body temperature and sweats, as well as racing thoughts that are difficult to catalogue."

John's first thought was, anxiety. He'd never known Sherlock to be a victim of anxiety though, and it seemed a little out of character. But, he supposed the man wasn't getting any younger. Sometimes these emotional issues could pop up in middle age…

"So, are you having these symptoms while doing doing anything physically difficult? Heavy lifting, running, jogging? Or is it during times of mental stress?"

"No!" Sherlock said excitedly and jumped up from his seat. He began pacing around the furniture. "It's certainly not during physical strain, and it isn't connected to unpleasant thoughts either."

John frowned, feeling the beginning of concern for his friend. "And there's nothing at all that you've noticed that might be triggering it? No commonality of factors?"

Sherlock seemed to freeze for half a second, his eyes darting to John before resuming his pacing. "No. Only…"

"Yes?" John prompted when Sherlock didn't continue.

Sherlock stopped pacing and faced his friend with hands perched on his hips. "Molly and Scott."

John's eyebrows slowly traveled further and further up his forehead as he stared back at Sherlock. Then he snorted out a laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?" Sherlock demanded. "If you have some sort of insight, you'd better share it. This isn't really the time to be making fun of me, Doctor Watson. I can't risk getting worse when Scott is depending on me!"

John shook his head and tried to stop laughing in the poor man's face, though it certainly wasn't easy. "Ok, so you're feeling these things with Molly and Scott? What about when you're taking care of Scott by yourself?"

Sherlock paused to think for a moment. "No, not really."

"Uh huh," John said, nodding to himself.

"Sometimes they don't have to be in my presence, it's a simple thought or memory that starts my heart racing and all the uncomfortable symptoms begin popping up! There's nothing wrong with Molly and Scott, I've been monitoring both of them for some time," Sherlock said with conviction. "Obviously there's something physically wrong with me!"

John got up from his seat. "I'll be right back, Sherlock. I just need to get my script pad. I think I know what the problem is…and I also think I know just what you need!" he said on his way out of the room.

"Excellent!" Sherlock called back, clapping his hands together and having a seat in the chair next to John's.

A minute later, John returned and sat down, immediately scribbling away on his little pad as he spoke. "It's really important you follow my direction exactly. I can tell you that I've seen this before. In fact, I've experienced it myself! So I know that this is what you need to do." He ripped the sheet off and handed it to Sherlock who took it eagerly and read John's chicken scratch.

After he'd accurately deciphered it, he looked back at John and frowned. "John, I can't imagine how this will help. 'Tell Molly how you feel?'" he read from the sheet. "Molly isn't a GP, John. She specializes in Pathology! So, unless this is your way of telling what I have is terminal-"

John sighed and let his head fall back against the chair. "For the love-" His head popped up again and he leaned forward. "Sherlock, do you honestly not understand what I'm trying to tell you?!"

That was when Mary marched into the room from where she'd been stationed outside the doorway. She set Lizzie on her husband's lap and grabbed the pad of paper and pen. "You might need to spell things out a bit more clearly, John," she said while writing in large letters. She handed the paper to Sherlock and stood back as he read.

"Tell Molly," Sherlock paused and looked at them as he read the rest. "You're in love with her."

"Thanks," John said as an aside to his wife.

"Yep, no problem."

Sherlock looked back at the paper in his hands and then at his friends. His voice was small when he finally opened his mouth. "Y-you think that all this is because…I'm in love with Molly."

Both Watsons nodded.

Sherlock cracked a smile and began laughing. "You two must be out of your minds!"

"Oh come on, Sherlock!" Mary exclaimed. "Just the thought of her is making your heart race!"

Sherlock pointed defensively. "The thought of her  _and Scott!_ "

"You have feelings for her, Sherlock. Don't argue that," John chimed in. "I've seen you two together recently and it's enough to make  _me_ ill! You're practically a happy little family already!"

Sherlock made no reply, and instead stood up from his seat to stalk around again with hands in his pockets.

"John's right. And it's true you've been spending a lot of time together with Scott," Mary added, an idea coming to mind. "I think that means you should spend some time with just Molly. You should ask her on a date! Just see how it goes, and maybe you can tell her how you feel!"

Strangely enough, that was when Sherlock whirled to face them with an amazed expression. "Mary…that is brilliant! Yes, a date!"

"What just happened?" John asked himself aloud, wondering who had just taken over Sherlock's body.

Sherlock continued to march around, speaking excitedly, "An experiment!"

"Never mind, there he is," John muttered.

"Sherlock, what do you mean by 'experiment'?" Mary asked the Sherlock as he walked by, a note of alarm in her voice.

"I need a way to test my true feelings. You see, it's only become more intense like this since Molly has been working closely with me in caring for Scott. I've noted that the act of caring for a child can conjure sentimental feelings more easily than most other human interactions. I've seen it in myself with Scott, and I've noted it with Molly and Scott. She immediately fell into the role of a mother, and Scott acts like she's playing that role. I've recorded it on many occasions!"

"Recorded it?" John questioned.

"Oh yeah, Molly told me about that already," Mary said, jumping in with an accompanying giggle. "Apparently Sherlock has been keeping records of things about Molly and Scott's interactions."

"No,  _no,_ " John said scoldingly. "Sherlock, you cannot just go around and experiment on people, much less your nephew and your friend!"

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Of course I can, John, I did with you all the time. And I thought you rather enjoyed it."

John sputtered angrily as Mary snorted.

Sherlock barrelled on. "Till now, I didn't consider that it was possibly me whose emotions were being affected.  _Human error_. I admit that Molly is eliciting an emotional reaction from me lately that I've never felt this intensely before."

Mary grinned listening to him speak, and nudged John.

"But," Sherlock continued. "What if this is all to do with our caring for Scott? That's something I need to know for sure. A bit of time with Molly and I on our own should answer that conclusively."

"Look at me, Sherlock," Mary said in her most authoritative voice, all the laughter now wiped away from her face, catching the detective's attention. "Molly is a thinking feeling person. More importantly, she is your friend and if you do this, you absolutely will not at any time use the words 'experiment', 'human error', or anything that will remotely hurt her, because I swear to God Sherlock, I will make you regret it."

John watched as his wife and his best friend seemed to be communicating silently for a moment. With a slight nod, Sherlock agreed and Mary's serious face was broken with a smile.

She leaned up and loudly kissed his cheek. "You'll see her today, then?"

"Mm, I'd better," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "I have to pick Scott up at my parent's in another couple of days and I'm not sure when I'll get the chance for some alone time with Molly again after that. She's working today, so I think I'll just make a point of…stopping by," he said with a grin, obviously pleased with his plan.

"And what happens if you find that you really do…you know," John said, trying to gauge how far ahead this plan went in Sherlock's mind.

Sherlock paused, and it looked very much like his cheeks actually got a bit pink as he pursed his lips and tried to conjure up an answer. "Well, as a scientist, I'm sure Molly would appreciate a report on my findings…"

"Sherlock," Mary said sharply.

He heaved a sigh that had a twinge of defeat. "I'll make sure that she knows."

John smiled, the romantic in him hopeful for his friends. "That's good, Sherlock. Very good, indeed."

The tall dark detective looked suddenly boyish as he nodded and then took a deep breath. "Right, well…off I go then." He leaned down and gave Lizzie a kiss on the head and also gave both Watsons a parting smile.

As they heard him open the door, leave, and then close it again, the Watsons turned and looked at each other only to instantly break into hysterics.

"Only Sherlock," John said through giggles. "Only he would decide to ask Molly on a date for the purpose of an experiment! I mean, should we be worried? Is Molly gonna kill him if she finds out?"

Mary gave Lizzie a kiss, who was also thoroughly entertained by whatever had just happened with her uncle Sherlock. "I don't think we should be worried," she said confidently. "Because it doesn't really matter if Sherlock sees it as an experiment."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Mary said with a sneaky little smile. "What matters is the results of the experiment…and I think we all know what that'll be."

* * *

Sherlock peered into the round window on the door of the morgue and caught sight of her. He turned away for a moment and took out the little notebook from his pocket, muttering to himself as he scribbled.

"Elevated heart rate," he wrote as he spoke, and marked the time and the pulse rate. Then he took a deep breath and pushed his way through the doors.

"Molly," he said brightly.

"Oh hi!" She looked up from the chest cavity she was currently examining. "No Scott this week?"

"I'll pick him up again in a couple of days. With my parents for now." He strolled over to where she stood, watching her work meticulously as he did.

"Oh, that's nice." She smiled, but could look up again since she was currently working on removing a lung.

"Actually I'll um, probably have him more consistently soon. Something more…stable for him. Like you were saying once before."

Molly placed the lung in a metal bowl and then looked up at him through her safety glasses. "Oh?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Seems the logical thing to do. It's been surprisingly easy having him around over these months."

Molly's eyebrows shot up, a skeptical look on her face.

"Well, after the first couple of days, anyway," he acknowledged. "I may have to look into some sort of regular child care though. I know I shouldn't exactly be relying on you to be available forever, with your career here at Barts, and I have my clients, of course. What then?"

"Sherlock, you're making it sound like the whole thing is hopeless. Don't worry too much, plenty of families deal with this same situation every day," Molly supplied, a soft smile gracing her features not one that was ridiculing his concerns, but rather offering comfort.

He thought to make a note of how he actually  _felt_  comforted by the simple gesture.

"Between you and I and Mrs. Hudson I'm sure we could manage to work it all out." She went on before suddenly cringing, words caught in her throat. "Um, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you what to do with your nephew," she said with a nervous laugh. "It's really not any of my business."

Sherlock took a couple of steps closer. "Isn't it?" he asked softly.

"Is it?" she replied, her voice dropping to match his.

"I think you should have a say," he went on.

"Oh." A tentative smile formed on her lips.

"You've been with him almost as much as I have since he came to London. He knows you as well as he knows me," Sherlock began to list off. "You're important to him. If you hadn't given your opinion, I would have asked for it."

Molly smiled at him, feeling her cheeks heat up as she did, and then quickly looking back into the chest cavity. "Well I'm glad. You know I care about him."

 _Heart rate rising again and sweat increasing,_ Sherlock noted to himself mentally. Though he realized that they needed to move away from the topic of Scott if he were to make a clear judgement about his feelings. He cleared his throat and took a step around to the other side of the autopsy table, watching as she removed the stomach from the 57 year old male's abdomen.

"So, what did you need?" she asked, breaking the brief silence.

"Hm?"

Molly looked at him with brows raised. "You needed something, right? I mean, I just wasn't sure why you stopped by. It's fine of course, I just…wondered."

_Oh right, this is the part where I actually ask her out. How exactly do I do that?_

"I was uh, wondering if you'd be able to stop by Baker Street after work this evening." He realized that it still sounded more like he was asking a favor rather than extending a romantic invitation, but it was a start.

Molly opened her mouth, but hesitated a bit. "Um…well if you, you know, really need me to."

Fear gripped Sherlock when he realized that she wasn't instantly accepting.

"It's just that, I really needed to get some groceries after work," Molly clarified. "Toby needs food and I suppose I do as well," she said with a laugh. "But I can come by if you really need me to do something or-"

"No no, it's fine, we can just do that," Sherlock spat out, barely speaking each word separately.

Molly frowned. "What? We can do what?"

"Uh, groceries, cat food…people food. All of that is fine, no problem," he said, trying to sound casual as he strolled around with his sweaty hands clasped behind his back.

The crease on Molly's brow deepened. "You want to…buy…cat food with me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at himself before turning back where she could see him. "Just keeping away boredom, staying busy," he said with a small smile.  _And asking you out on a date, but I'm successfully mucking that up._ "I could um, just come back later and we can share a cab."

"I'm off at four," she replied as evenly as she could manage. Confusion and just a bit of suspicion was clearly written on her face.

 _Probably not good._  John's voice could not have been less welcome at stating the obvious.

"Right, well I'll see you then." He smiled widely, trying this best to salvage what he could of the situation.

"Ok."

"Ok."

Sherlock glanced away from her nervously and looked at the dead man on her table. "I'd stick around but that looks to be a pretty obvious cause of death. Blood clot resulting in a massive stroke." He gave her another grin and then turned away, his coat flying behind him as he made an exit.

Molly was frozen in shock for a moment, then she too glanced down at the dead man, the only one available to pose the question to.

"What just happened?"


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock walked along, feeling more like an idiot with each passing moment. Here he was, strolling along beside Molly and her shopping trolley, having very little to say as she gradually picked out all the things she needed and set them inside. Thankfully there wasn't a large amount she needed to buy. He was desperately trying to decide what he'd do when the shopping trip was done. He glanced at his watch, but apparently not covertly enough.

"Sorry, am I taking too long?" she asked.

"No no!" he answered quickly. "I was just um, seeing how late it was. In case we needed to do anything after this."  _In case we need to do anything?_ Sherlock asked himself.  _Just tell her!_

"If there's anything you need to do, that's fine. We can run another errand," Molly offered while tossing a box of biscuits in the cart.

Sherlock was momentarily distracted by the biscuits. "You like that chocolate kind with nuts too?"

"Oh no," Molly answered quickly, but then winced when she realized she'd have to explain herself.

"Then…why are you buying them?"

"Well um…" She glanced at him shyly. "I know Mrs. Hudson buys these for you so I just thought I'd keep some at my flat too. You know, if you need to stop by or stay over or anything."

Sherlock had the sudden and overwhelming urge to throw her up against the grocery shelf and kiss her…he blinked a few times and then tugged his scarf off, throwing it into the cart.

"That's um, good…that's good. Thank you," he said, more awkwardly than he wanted.

"No problem," she squeaked out.

About twenty minutes later, Molly and Sherlock exited the grocery store, Molly with her the few small bags hooked on her arms.

"So, it's really only a short walk home for me from here. I can just walk back and you can get a cab for yourself. Thanks for the ride from Bart's though," Molly said with a grateful smile.

"Wait!" Sherlock blurted out desperately.

"What?"

"I- I should probably walk with you to your flat," he said, hoping this would buy him enough time to get the right words out.

Molly glanced around and then back at him. "Well, there's plenty of people around. The streets are still pretty busy. I think I'll be fine. Besides, Mary taught me a few little moves," she said with a proud little smile.

"It'll also cut my cab fare," Sherlock added quickly, congratulating himself for quick thinking. "I'll be closer to Baker Street if I catch a cab on your street."

"Oh." Molly nodded, though also wondered when Sherlock had become so conscientiously frugal. "Ok, if you'd like."

They strolled along the London streets in the chilly air, each of them now carrying a couple of bags, and Sherlock wondered how it was possible that this felt so right. How did it feel so right  _already_? This wasn't really a date. Did this count as part of his experiment?

"Where's your scarf?" he asked, seeing her pale neck peeking out the collar of her jacket. "That stripy one?"

"Oh I left that at home today. Stupid me, I forgot I'd be walking home with groceries!" She laughed at herself.

Sherlock pulled his scarf off for the second time and looped it around Molly's neck in the usual fashion, barely giving her time to react before he was already done.

"No, that's all right! You'll be cold," she objected, her hand poised at the luxurious knit, ready to pull it off.

"You can give it back when we reach your flat," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he kept his gaze straight ahead.

"Um…ok," Molly said very quietly. "Thanks."

Sherlock smiled secretly as he noticed how she bent her head down ever so slightly in order to smell the scarf and then her eyes drifted closed as if in momentary bliss.

Earlier awkwardness became quickly forgotten when Molly brought up his latest case. They spend a few minutes laughing as Sherlock described his hunt through back alleys and trash bins when he needed to find that cat some weeks ago. Molly then took a turn talking and told him about how she was pretty sure Scott could recognize most of the letters of the alphabet by sight now. They talked with surprising ease, and were both silently sorry when they rounded a corner and arrived at Molly's building.

"Well thanks," Molly said brightly. "It was nice to have the company. I hope this helped with the boredom, but I'm afraid this was a terribly boring outing. Not exactly a murder investigation!"

Sherlock let out a low chuckle. "I suppose it wasn't," he said quietly. Surprising, given how badly he didn't want it to end.

"I'd better um, get these things upstairs." She tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear and rocked on her heels a bit, clearly trying to say good evening. "I'll see you later." Molly took the bags he held and turned to go.

"Right, of course," Sherlock said quickly, but he was panicking once again as she turned to go. "Molly, wait!"

She turned back toward him and frowned, looking confused. It was obvious that she was beginning to see a pattern.

"Look, Sherlock, I kind of need to get this food upstairs. And I need to feed Toby," Molly said as she set the bags down and crossed her arms around her middle. She was becoming a bit less tolerant of his mysterious neediness today. "I feel like there's something you want but you're not telling me. Why don't you just let me know what you're getting at and I'm sure we'll both feel much better."

"Well you could go feed Toby and bring the groceries in first!" he offered, looking like he'd just come up with a winning solution. "You wouldn't be busy after that would you?"

Molly laughed and crossed her arms. "Sherlock, what is going on? Why are you trying to keep me with you?"

"Because, Molly, I need to!" Sherlock was running out of alternate excuses and he knew he was getting backed into a corner.

"But, what for?" she pressed.

"Because I'm trying to figure out if I'm falling in love with you!" he blurted out, much louder than he'd planned.

Molly's laughter and smile instantly melted off her face and was replaced with a look of pure shock. That expression remained as she read him, and realized that he definitely wasn't joking. Sherlock pressed his lips together and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking down at the pavement for a moment.

"And?" Molly asked very softly, hoping there was more to it.

Sherlock looked back at her, a little nervously before letting out a sigh. "And I was planning to…ask you out…on a date."

Molly took a step closer. "No, I mean, you said you were trying to figure it out. So…did you?" She peered up at him, wishing to read him and wanting to devour every word she could make out.

There he was, standing on a street and looking down at Molly Hooper, suddenly faced with  _the_ big question. In a way, he'd done what he originally wanted to. He spent time with her and only her. And as he'd noted earlier, it felt so right and so comfortable. It was like slipping his dressing gown on after a bath. There were no cases, or bodies, or samples to be analyzed, or even Scott to look after…but still. When he took everything else away, all the other things they usually shared, it still felt just right in all those strange and sometimes unnerving ways.

And there was the answer. Molly Hooper, all by herself, was more than enough.

Without warning, Sherlock cradled her face and leaned down, very gently pressing his lips to hers. He could feel her jump in surprise ever so slightly as he did it, but a split second later she relaxed and he felt her leaning into him, returning the soft pressure with her own lips.

She pulled back and looked at him wide eyed, obviously in a bit of shock…perhaps more than before.

"Does that answer your question?" Sherlock whispered, the ghost of a smile on his slightly rosy lips.

Molly just stared at him agape and silent, which prompted Sherlock to remove his hands from her face. Perhaps this wasn't the reaction he'd dreamed of. He cleared his throat and took one step back, giving her some space.

"W-what are you doing, Sherlock?" she asked in a whisper while briefly touching her lips, as if she were unsure of what they'd just experienced. "Is this some kind of, I don't know…extreme form of manipulation? And you're trying to get me to do something?"

"Of course not," Sherlock said with an injured expression, though he knew full well that she was within her rights to question him. He saw a brief flicker of hope in her eyes, but she held back, instead voicing another concern.

"Wait, what about Scott?" Molly asked.

"What about him?"

"Is this about him? I mean, are you trying to make sure I stay around to help you? I told you I'd help with him and I meant it. I wasn't including any time limit either!" She was beginning to talk rapidly and Sherlock could see that her eyes were filling. "It's ok! I- if I have to send him off to university with you and then go home alone to my flat and my cat-"

"Forget Scott!" Sherlock said forcefully.

Molly frowned.

Sherlock sighed and then spoke again in a more controlled voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean that literally. I just meant…this has nothing to do with him, not really. This is about you and me. And if there was no Scott, well…" He paused and ran fingers through his curls. "I would still want this."

Molly pressed a hand to her mouth and she gulped back the tears that were quickly accumulating and getting ready to overflow. "That goodbye letter?" she asked. "When you said you wanted more, you really meant…"

Sherlock nodded. "Obviously it was something I put aside again once I returned to London. I admit that recent events with my nephew were what forced me to think more seriously about…feelings. I suppose now I can only hope that I haven't possibly waited a bit too long," he said, tentatively taking a step back toward her.

Molly wiped at her eyes. "There's no such thing," she said with a fresh sob. "If I were old and grey I'd still be in your arms if you opened them to me."

Sherlock would have hated himself if he could have seen this scene a few years ago; would have been sure he was insane or drugged. And yet, in this moment, he quite enjoyed feeling like he was in an old film as he lifted his arms and opened them, as Molly had just described. And when she crashed into him and he instantly responded by closing his arms tightly around her, there was no better feeling in the world. He may have been the one holding her in a warm embrace, but Sherlock realized that he had never felt warmer and safer…and more at home.

Something constricted in Sherlock's chest, and it had nothing to do with Molly's hold on him. It made him clench his jaw and suck in a breath. His heart pounded and felt like it might explode or implode or maybe just double in size and burst from the confines of his ribs. And he finally came to grips with the complexity of the love that had grown for Molly Hooper. There was no mutual exclusivity of his feelings for her as a woman, and her role in the life of his nephew. It was all wrapped up together. The fact that her love for Scott made his heart swell didn't invalidate the fact that he wished he could kiss her till he ran out of breath. It was all love; so simple and yet so mind bogglingly complex.

As he was wrapping his mind around this revelation, Molly spoke again. "When did you say you were picking Scott?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the seeming change of topic. "Day after tomorrow. Why?"

"Well, that means you have all of tomorrow free…and I don't have to work tomorrow…" She lifted her head and peered up at him while biting her lip, which made Sherlock smirk. "And you did just say you were going to ask me out, you know…on a date." Molly grinned, blushing in the evening light.

Sherlock chuckled. "I did say that, didn't I?" He brought a hand up and brushed away a little of her hair. Then he shrugged and feigned indifference. "Not that there's any need to ask now."

Molly glared at him playfully. "I don't know about that! How do you know what my answer would be?"

"Oh, you know me, Molly." He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers again as he murmured softly. "I can employ my expert skills of deduction using available clues. Such as…you're hanging all over me right now."

Molly swatted at his chest but couldn't help returning the smile he gave her. She knew she was transparent, maybe especially to him, but for the first time she couldn't care less. She was more than happy to put herself out there, because the fear had suddenly been removed.

"Maybe I'd like you to ask me all the same," Molly whispered and raised her brows in anticipation. She had to hold back a giggle when he suddenly looked a little nervous again.

Sherlock swallowed hard. "All right. Well then, Molly, would you like to…" He paused to clear his throat. "Go out with me tomorrow?"

Molly nodded while grinning. "More than anything, yes." She moved her arms from around his middle to around his neck. "So…what would you like to do?"

Sherlock's expression became serious, in a way that was endearing to the woman he looked down at. "Everything, Molly," he said in a whisper. "Everything and nothing and just…life. I just want you in my life."

She blushed and had to look away momentarily from the weight of his gaze. "I know you're not terribly experienced in the area of dating, so I should probably tell you that sounds like a bit more than a date." Her eyes sparkled pleasantly as she looked back at him.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Perhaps it is. So…what do you say?"

Molly's smile blossomed again as she made ready to pull him down again for another kiss as she answered.

"I'm in."

* * *

Mary yawned as she woke up and opened her eyes. She noticed it was getting light out and glanced at the bedside alarm. She smiled to herself as she realized that it was past six am and Lizzie hadn't woken all night! When she turned over, she saw that John was just beginning to wake as well.

"When did you get in?" she asked.

John rubbed his eyes. "It was gone one. You and Lizzie were fast asleep so I didn't want to wake anyone."

"Case go well then?"

"Mm. Pretty well, yeah. It did involve a trip to Bart's though." John made a humorous face a chuckled.

Mary giggled. "Ooh, how fun! The lovebirds got to see each other I take it."

John shook his head. "It's still hard to get used to, Mary. It's so strange. They're just..." he raised his hands and let them fall on the bed again, unable to grasp the words.

"They're in love," Mary said with a happy smile. "I think it's amazing."

"I'm thrilled for them, don't get me wrong! But let me tell you, it gets a little uncomfortable sometimes." John's eyes got wide, making Mary laugh out loud. "Sherlock certainly doesn't care about anyone else's embarrassment, so he has no qualms about snogging Molly in front of me or anybody else, though Molly seems to be embarrassed enough for the both of them. I've started letting him pop into the morgue or the lab a few minutes before I follow him in. And I also make sure to announce my presence!"

"Good for them," Mary said with a contented sigh. "I'm glad they're so happy."

"It's only been a few weeks. But yeah, it does seem like this is a sure thing. They're just so good together. And Scott seems so happy with them, which is great for the little guy. It all seems rather picture perfect, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Mary said, snuggling into her husband's arm. "It does."

He couldn't see the look on her face and how her smile fell a bit. She was happy, and her life was lovely now. But Mary Watson knew that picture perfect was usually an illusion. She was a bit jaded by the realities that life, and even her own decisions, had handed her. The idea that things looked so perfect for the life that Sherlock and Molly were building naturally made her nervous.

It made her wonder what was lurking around the corner…

* * *

Mrs. Holmes came padding down the stairs as she wrapped the robe around her and tied the sash around her middle. She peered out the side window by the front door and smiled in relief at the face of her eldest son.

"Mike, it's early!" she chastised while giving him a hug as he stepped inside. "You could have called!"

"Forgive me, Mummy. I only just arrived back in town," he said with a little sigh.

Mrs. Holmes took one more look at her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Darling, you look absolutely exhausted. You didn't have to come straight over here if you'd just got home. You've been away for nearly a couple of months! You should have had some rest before making visits."

The poor man's face was rather somber. "To be quite honest, there isn't much time for rest right now. I haven't been able to stay in touch while away, but now that I'm back…" He took his mother's hand off his shoulder and held it firmly. "I need to speak to you and Dad. And after I leave here, I'll need to stop by and have a visit with Sherlock."

Mrs. Holmes felt a chill go through her as she took in her son's demeanor and expression. She knew him, and she knew the kind of implication that words like those could have.

"You'd better come sit down," she said softly, but with an equally serious expression. "I'll go get your father up."

"Mummy?" he asked as she started back up the stairs. "Is Scott here right now, or with Sherlock in London?"

"With Sherlock. Why?"

Mycroft took a breath and let it out slowly as he looked up the stairs at his perceptive and therefore already concerned mother. He knew that his answer would only add to that concern, but it certainly wasn't the time to hold anything back anymore.

"Scott will need to be staying here for a while."


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock made the effort to turn his head slightly, blocking the client's view so he could roll his eyes unnoticed. This was tiresome in the extreme. He had really only taken a couple of mediocre cases to distract him until Molly got back from the conference she'd attended for the past two days. Scott was napping, so he allowed this idiot to come in and tell her sob story. He briefly reminded himself of the fact that he'd definitely start taking more cases once Mycroft returned from this ridiculously long business trip he was currently on.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock heard some light footsteps ascending the stairs to his door. His head shot up from where it rested on his hand and held up his hand, effectively silencing the client. He glanced at his watch.

"A bit early, but it could be…" Sherlock muttered to himself. He jumped up and opened the door, just in time to see Molly's smiling face behind it. His own lips spread wide and he grinned just as he leaned in to wrap her up in a tight embrace.

"I missed you," Molly whispered into his neck, enjoying the familiar smell of his soap and clothes and just…him.

Sherlock set her down and cradled her face, staring wordlessly for a moment. Finally he smiled again and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her inside. "This will only take a moment," he said softly.

"I- I wasn't quite done," the client said, realizing that the detective had just allowed a guest to join the party.

"Oh yes you are," Sherlock retorted. "Look, your best friend is having an affair with your married brother. They both don't want you to know and they're going to great trouble to keep it from you. So the answer is, no. Nobody is stalking you or trying to kill you. You're simply being deceived, because the guilty parties felt you were dim enough for them to sneak around behind your back…which I suppose isn't far from the truth since you were a long way off from putting the pieces together without my help. I suggest you confront one or both of them, but seeing as I am no relationship counselor, this is no longer my area."

He walked away from Molly and held his door open again, gesturing to it while giving the client a tight smile. "So…good day."

The poor woman continued gaping in shock as she stood from her chair and quickly made her exit. Sherlock shut the door behind her and instantly crossed the distance to Molly again, grasping her face and connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, pulling away, smiling widely at him before glancing around. "Where's Scott?"

"Napping," Sherlock answered quickly before swooping down again.

Molly dodged his lips though. "Oh, ok," she answered, a little disappointment evident in her tone. "I just wanted to see him before I go back to my flat. I need to try and get settled before this evening. I have a shift at Bart's."

"They put you on a late shift the day you got back?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm covering for someone who's sick. I don't really mind, even though it makes for a hectic day."

"Stay here," Sherlock tried insisting as he removed her bag from her shoulder and hung that and her coat on a hook.

"Well I can't really. I need to make sure there's enough food and water in Toby's bowl before I leave for the hospital and-"

"No, I mean really  _stay here._ " Sherlock gave her a more pointed look and waited for Molly to catch on to his actual meaning.

Molly's eyes got wide and mouth formed a little O as she did take in what he was suggesting. "Oh, um, well…" She felt behind her for the couch and took a seat as she fumbled with how to form an answer.

"It makes perfect sense!" Sherlock announced with a chuckle. "You've spent more than half of the past few weeks at Baker Street anyway. You want to be able to spend time with Scott whenever he's here, but sometimes it's logistically difficult when you've got work and things at your flat to think of." He sauntered over and took a seat beside her, so as to murmur the next part near her ear. "And then of course there's me."

Molly giggled and turned to kiss his cheek momentarily. But then she sighed and tried to set about discussing the matter logically. "I don't know, it just seems a little…fast. Not that I have any doubts! I want to be with you, and I want to be in Scott's life, both more than anything. But still…I mean, are you sure?" She grimaced while asking, clearly worried that Sherlock wasn't thinking straight.

Sherlock let out a short laugh. "Molly, I know what I want. I see no point in parading through some ridiculous ritual to pretend like I'm still trying to figure it out. It seems we both want the same thing…so why slow things unnecessarily? In fact, I was thinking of taking some action with Scott as well."

"Oh?"

"Mm," Sherlock said, pressing his lips together for a moment before going on. "I believe it's time that I legally adopt him."

Molly's jaw dropped, but was followed by a wide grin. "Sherlock, that's…amazing! That would be so wonderful."

"Again, it certainly just makes sense to do it. Baker Street is already his true home now, and he clearly sees me as a father figure anyway. It's the responsible thing to do, to make it legal. I need to be able to make decisions about him, and do things to take care of him. And what if…what if something did happen to me? Naturally, I'd want him to be looked after. I think this is the right thing to do. And I think it's time."

"You're right, I think it is too," Molly agreed with a thoughtful nod. She stopped, another thought seeming to occur to her, and then spoke again very cautiously. "Um, so were you telling me because…you want me to…"

Sherlock got her meaning. "Oh! No no, certainly not- not that I wouldn't want that!" he hurried to add. "I just mean, it's not a necessity right this moment. You can always think about it."

Molly smiled, completely satisfied with his answer. She dearly hoped to be a legal guardian of Scott's sometime in the future, near future if she was honest. But she also knew that some things shouldn't be rushed. This wasn't just about then after all. It was about another person, and they had to be level headed when it came to Scott.

She reached over and slid her fingers in between his. "I will think about it," Molly said softly. "And about moving in too. I think…" She took a deep breath. "I think I'd like that. I know I would actually."

"I know I would too," Sherlock kissed her again, pulling her closer and tangling his fingers in her hair. They both jumped a moment later when they heard the patter of little feet coming down the hallway.

"Olly!" Scott squealed and rushed over to the couch.

Sherlock dutifully scooted over a little as Molly welcomed the little boy into her arms as he climbed up.

"Hello, lovey!" Molly said, peppering Scott's cheeks with kisses as he giggled and hugged her. "Olly missed you. Are you being a nice little boy for Uncle Clock?"

"Ya!" he said happily.

"I suppose there's plenty of nice if you leave out the toilet training bits," Sherlock said under his breath.

"Ooh!" Molly exclaimed giving Scott a tickle. "Are you going to the toilet now? How exciting!" She looked over at Sherlock. "Did you just start that since I went to the conference?"

"Mm. I did some research and it seems that this is the time to start. Get them comfortable with the routine early…plenty of accidents along the way though."

"Well of course!" Molly said sweetly to Scott. "Learning something new takes time. We'll help you get there!"

Scott reached over and picked up his Family Book from the coffee table and handed it to Molly. She smiled and opened the book, glad to be able to offer him the fun and comfort of looking at all the people who love him. Scott always wanted to spend the most time on the pages that featured his mother and father's faces, and today was no different.

"Mumma," Scott stated, patting the photo.

"That's right," Molly said softly, rubbing his little arm. "Mumma loved you very much, didn't she? And so did your Daddy. They'd be so very proud of you today."

He lifted his little hand in question. "Mumma?"

Molly looked at Sherlock sadly as she answered Scott the way they always did. "Your Mummy and Daddy aren't here anymore, Scott. Remember?" she said gently. "They didn't want to leave, but they had to. They loved you though, and that's what matters the most, right?"

Scott was quiet, still staring at the pages that held the faces he missed. He couldn't quite understand why he didn't see them anymore, only that they were just…not there.

Sherlock jumped in, trying to help things a bit. "Can you find anyone else in your book, Scott? Can you find me?"

Scott was quickly encouraged to continue turning the pages and he soon found Sherlock. "Unc Clock!" he said excitedly and pointed to the page. He turned another page and found Molly's picture. "Olly!"

"That's right! That's me!" Molly kissed his cheek. She lifted him from her lap and set him next to Sherlock. "And Olly is going to make some tea now. Maybe you'd like some toast with jam, hm?"

"Toes peese!" Scott requested with a look of excitement. Ah, a request often made by a Holmes.

Sherlock kept Scott busy as he looked through the book, and Molly puttered around the kitchen. His lips lifted in a little half smile, strangely content with the new dynamic that had taken hold on his life. He never would have imagined it could feel this comfortable to him, but it absolutely did. The past few weeks had been a flurry of activity, but there was also an added calm he enjoyed now. There used to be the pang of boredom without a case. That had been replaced by the solace of his…his family. There was always activity, always something to do. He'd considered children tedious in the past, but the truth was that there was nothing boring about it. Always something to do or take care of. And he enjoyed teaching Scott and watching him learn, soaking things up like a little sponge. He loved watching Molly interact with him and seeing how the child responded to her in kind. There was nothing really like it.

And then there was simply…Molly. The observations on the change in the relationship were bountiful, but it struck him how he was most fascinated by the things he'd always dismissed as boringly domestic. He was surprised to find that he loved the way she'd just lean against him if he were standing close enough. Or how she'd plant a little kiss on his forehead or nose as she passed by; purposely not disturbing him, but just wanting to give him that tiny little reminder of her presence and affection. He found that those little things kept him going and gave him lovely little bursts of drive and purpose throughout his days. She moved him and inspired him and grounded him, all at once. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her asleep in his bed every night for the rest of his life. He couldn't see it any other way now. And it seemed to Sherlock that things were heading in that direction. Yes, Molly perhaps harbored some hesitance about moving their relationship along in a way that he knew was conventionally much too quickly, but he felt that taking into consideration their years of previous acquaintance, there wasn't anything fast about this at all. More importantly, he was sure that this was what she wanted as well. It would take very little time for her to see that there was no reason to hold off any longer. John and Mary had urged him not to push the matter, and so he was trying…but of course he was so very awful at being patient.

A few minutes later, Molly had cleared the kitchen table a bit and got some tea and toast set out. She got Scott in his highchair and Sherlock took a seat as well. He began pouring a cup for himself and Molly and was just about to discuss the process of adoption that he'd looked into…when he heard a familiar knock at the door.

Sherlock looked up at Molly and smirked. As he got up to open the door, he said loud enough to be heard, "Look who's finally decided to return to London!" The door opened and he was met with the serious face of his elder brother.

"Afternoon, Sherlock," he said simply. He looked past him and at Molly. "Hello, Miss Hooper."

"Why don't you come in," Molly offered. "Have some tea. I just made a pot."

"Did you?" Mycroft asked with a raised brow as he came in and Sherlock shut the door. He glanced back and forth between her and Sherlock.

"Would you like some?" Molly offered again, grabbing another cup.

"No time, I'm afraid. I came to speak with Sherlock…both of you actually, seeing as this affects more than just Sherlock."

Sherlock was instantly on alert, his quickly assessing his brother, gathering as much data as possible. He placed his hands together before his mouth for a moment before schooling his features into a cool and indifferent mask. "Go on, then."

Mycroft leaned his umbrella against the table and took a deep breath before beginning. "As you may have noted, I haven't been in communication for the past couple of months. I've been traveling out of country, and I suppose that isn't terribly suspicious given my minor role in the British government…"

"Why are you being  _boring_ , Mycroft," Sherlock snapped, his patience rapidly disappearing. "If you have something to say,  _say it_."

"Sherlock," Molly admonished softly to which Sherlock simply released a frustrated sigh but refrained from saying anything further.

Mycroft noted the exchange with an interest of something to be analyzed later. "There was another reason for my silence," he went on.

Molly sat down and handed Scott the toast she'd just buttered and spread with jam. There was a bit of worry pooling in her gut at the moment and she couldn't even bring herself to take a sip of tea as she listened to Mycroft speaking.

"I've had...suspicions," Mycroft told them. "They started six months ago when Scott came to us; minor, perhaps even baseless but...persistent. I asked around discreetly, picked up information, but nothing much came out of it. Then, a couple of months ago, I finally got some more concrete evidence. I decided it had become necessary to do legwork …and I found it."

Sherlock's eyes grew wide. He knew from his brother's tone, and everything about the conversation, where this was headed. It was easily deduced, no matter how unbelievable it was.

Mycroft went on and confirmed Sherlock's deduction. "Let's just say that you aren't the only Holmes man that's decided to fake his own death in order to protect the people he holds dear." Mycroft couldn't help smirking at the irony.

"My God," Molly murmured, her hand clasped over her mouth. "I-is Sherringford alive? Are they both really alive?" she asked incredulously.

Mycroft nodded. "As alive as we are, and well too, along with his wife." He smiled a little. "But they're in hiding. It took quite a bit of time and effort to put the pieces together and find them. Sherringford was rather grateful when I did, though. As you can imagine, he's had quite a lot to do, and it would be quite the task to complete all on his own."

"Quite a lot to do?" Molly questioned, not following what seemed so obvious to both the Holmes men.

"There was a threat," Sherlock answered, realizing that this truly was exactly what he lived some years ago. "He needed to take care of it and make sure his family was safe. What better way to do that than to kill himself off? Can't hurt him if he's dead. Now it was a matter of hunting down those who were a danger to him. Once that was done, he and his wife and child could live safely again."

Mycroft agreed. "Yes, and it's a tricky business of course. He's only one man, with few to go to for help. He was actually more pleased to see me than I anticipated." He looked at Scott. "Obviously he also wanted to know absolutely everything about his son."

"What's going to happen now?" Molly asked, realizing that this situation meant change was coming…in some way or another.

"Well, first thing's first," Mycroft began, picking his umbrella again. "Scott needs to be relocated to our parent's home in the country. That way, Sherlock and I can go take care of things…speed things up for Sherringford. Scott needs to be looked after, and he also needs to be safe. Our parent's home has about the highest level of security attached to it. I feel it's the best place for him to be till this is over."

"If you needed-I mean, if your parents needed help, I could maybe go with him too?" Molly spoke up. "Just so they don't have to worry about exerting themselves too much? Scott is very active and...well, I don't mind, is what I'm saying."

Mycroft looked a little confused. "While we appreciate the offer, Miss Hooper, I don't think you absolutely have to-"

"Molly stays with Scott," Sherlock stated firmly. And as he did, he reached across the table and took hold of Molly's hand, lacing their fingers together while still staring his brother down.

Mycroft's brows shot up. "I see," he said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I've clearly been gone for longer than I thought. Won't Mummy be pleased?"

"We can have this conversation later, Mycroft," Sherlock growled. "When should we leave?"

"Well, the sooner the better of course."

Sherlock nodded. "Alright. We can get ourselves to the country house tomorrow and I'll be ready to leave with you the following day. Do they know about this?"

"I just came from there. I imagine you'd arrive to find them happily and tearfully looking at old photographs right about now," Mycroft said as he turned to go, unable even in this instance to hold back the typical disdainful tone at such a sentimental activity.

"How wonderful for them," Molly said with a little sniff, tears coming to her own eyes at the thought of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes learning the news. She glanced over at Scott who was munching at his toast and watching the adults with interest, but not really understanding the weight of the conversation. Not knowing that the people he loved most in the world were actually alive and well…and likely thinking of little else but his dear sweet face.

"I'll call Mummy and make sure she knows to expect you." Mycroft gave them both a little nod. "Till tomorrow." And then he was gone, having left the life changing information to hang in the air around them.

Molly and Sherlock looked at each other and Molly gave him a little smile. "They're alive," she whispered, a slight quiver on her lip.

Sherlock nodded slowly and glanced at his nephew and spoke seriously. "Yes they are. And it seems I need to make sure that they stay that way." He immediately abandoned his tea and left the kitchen to retreat to the bedroom.

Molly kept her jitters in check and smiled sweetly at Scott who was watching her closely. "I think Uncle Sherlock needs to think, ok? Why don't you and I just have some tea together."

* * *

Later that night, Scott had drifted to sleep lying against Sherlock's chest in his bed. Sherlock set the book down and eased Scott onto the mattress so he could get up to begin putting some of his things into a small travel bag . He wouldn't bring much. Not only because he hoped that his and Mycroft's journey would be brief, but also because they may be mostly on the road.

He glanced at the angelic little figure who was breathing lightly and nestled into his pillow. There was something painful about this whole thing, and it had nothing to do with his fear for Sherringford and Maria's safety. He recalled trying to bring it up to Molly earlier, afraid that she would suffer perhaps even more than he would.

" _Molly," he said gently as she gathered up her things to return to her flat, needing to pack for herself. "I hope you realize that there aren't many outcomes to this situation that won't involve significant…adjustments."_

" _I know," she responded quickly._

_Sherlock began again cautiously. "What I mean, Molly, is that Scott will likely-"_

" _I know," Molly said, more firmly this time, but she also managed a smile. "I know, Sherlock. I just want what's best for Scott and his family, really." She gave him a determined little nod and then finished gathering her things to head home._

Sherlock stuck a couple pairs of socks in his case as he continued to watch Scott breathing steadily, letting out the occasional contented little sigh. Sherlock himself was having a difficult time sorting through the events that would soon be taking place. To be sure, changes were on the horizon.

They just weren't the changes that he or Molly had been expecting.


	11. Chapter 11

Molly's eyes shot open as she felt Scott squirming beside her in the guest bed at the Holmes country house. The second she was conscious, she could feel her anxiety on the rise again, knowing she'd have little relief until this was all over and done with. She ran her hands over her face and tried to get comfortable again, but clearly the quiet of the country and the movement of a little boy next to her were no recipe for sleep. It looked like she'd be up with the sun this morning!

Scott sat up and rubbed his little eyes as well, his curls all disheveled from a night of tossing and turning. Molly also sat up and cradled him against her as she tried to smooth his wild hair a little. He leaned his weight into her and she could hear him sucking on his fingers. He still tended to do that when he was tired or upset, and Molly couldn't help but think that he must be able to tell that something just  _wasn't right_ at the moment _._

"It's alright, lovey," Molly murmured and kissed his head. "Everything's going to be just fine."

They had eaten dinner together as a family the previous night, and Mrs. Holmes promised to make a full English this morning for everyone. Naturally, Sherlock was eating only what he was forced to. But in general, everyone, including Sherlock, was putting on a good show for a relaxed and happy atmosphere for the sake of Scott. They had also all agreed that the possibility of seeing his parents again shouldn't be spoken aloud to him yet. Nobody wanted to run the risk that this sweet little boy would be further crushed and confused. As far as was explained to him, he and Aunty Olly were staying with Grandma and Grandpa for a fun visit while Uncle Clock and Uncle Mike went to find some bad guys.

Molly had discretely taken Mrs. Holmes' hand and given it a hearty squeeze more than once already since their arrival. It was clear that the poor woman was out of her mind with worry, and hope, and fear…all at the same time. She was doing her level best to keep things light and comfortable for everyone else, and yet she and Mr. Holmes had the very most at risk. All three of their children could potentially be lost in one swoop, and nothing could really ease her distress.

Eventually, Molly got out of bed and changed Scott. She threw a dressing gown on and opened the guest bedroom door, the smell of pancakes already wafting up the stairs. She looked at the door to her right and saw shadows moving at the edge. Sherlock was obviously up.

She brought Scott downstairs and greeted the two older Holmes. Mrs. Holmes took over and began busying herself with getting Scott set up with a plate of food.

"I'm just um, I'm going to pop up and, you know, just check-" Molly gestured clumsily toward the stairs. This felt awkward.

"Go ahead, dear," Mr. Holmes said with a warm smile. "Perhaps you can convince him to have a bit of breakfast." He gave her a wink.

Molly smiled back and nodded, grateful that Sherlock's parents had no trouble welcoming her with open arms.

She climbed the stairs and arrived at his door, gave it a good knock, and opened slowly. "Hi," Molly said softly as she peered in and saw him buttoning his dress shirt. "You coming downstairs?"

"Mycroft will be here in less than an hour," he said, not directly answering her question and barely looking over while continuing his work on the buttons.

Molly came in and closed the door behind her. She crossed the room and stopped in front of him, stilling his hands and taking over the work on the buttons.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a low murmur.

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Helping," she answered simply with a slight smile. Once she reached the last button, she smoothed her palms down the front of his shirt, her eyes following the path. "Maybe I'm also just trying to savor every moment till you go."

"I'm sure I won't be gone long, Molly." Sherlock closed his fingers around her hands on his chest.

"I guess I just…" She took a deep breath and it came out a little shaky. "The thought of you going away after I found that letter-"

"That's not what this is," Sherlock interrupted instantly, speaking firmly and holding her hands a bit tighter. "This is different. This is no suicide mission."

Molly nodded vigorously. "I know, I know. It just makes me nervous to watch you leave now." She gave him a smile, trying to assure him she was ok, not wanting to burden him with any more than the weight that already rested on his shoulders.

Sherlock dropped her hands and instead cradled her face, leaning down to press an unexpectedly passionate kiss to her lips. Molly had to reach up and grip his arms as her head began to spin and the kiss gradually consumed and even eclipsed her immediate worries. By the time he pulled back, she was barely able to catch her breath.

Molly slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. "What was that for?" she breathed out.

"I want you to know," he said very seriously. "I'm coming back. Don't doubt that I'll make sure I do. Because I want to be able to do that again." Sherlock added a half smile, further comforting her.

Molly bit her lip and smiled back. "Well I'm awfully glad to hear it. That sounds pretty good to me too." She switched gears then. "But we'd better get downstairs, because your parents think I'm convincing you to come downstairs and have some breakfast…not snogging you! Don't make a liar out of me!"

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "Just a couple of bites I suppose."

"Sherlock," she added before they left the room. "Where will Sherringford and Maria live…after this is all over?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure," he said, knowing that he was telling a half truth. He may not know where they'd be living, but he was pretty sure of where they wouldn't be living. But that was what he didn't want to get into. At least not quite yet.

That subject was bound to break a number of hearts.

* * *

"Say bye bye to Uncle Sherlock, darling," Mrs. Holmes said, holding Scott as the family all stood outside their home.

"Buh bye, Clock," Scott said in his usual cheery voice, and he leaned forward as Sherlock approached.

"Bye bye, Scott," Sherlock said with a smile, and he kissed Scott's pillowy cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You be good for Grandma and Grandpa and Olly."

"You be careful," Mrs. Holmes said, with a borderline threatening look. "Take care of your brother."

"No promises," he answered with a wink and smirk, leaning down to give her a kiss as well, accepting her swatting his arm in response.

Sherlock bid his father farewell as Mycroft got a similar talking to from their mother. Molly approached and waited as Mr. Holmes finished up and eventually stepped aside, allowing her a moment. Molly immediately wrapped her arms tightly around Sherlock's neck.

"Please be safe," she whispered into the warmth of his neck. "Please."

Sherlock turned toward her head and kissed it. "I'm not going anywhere, Molly, remember? I'll see you in a few days, I'm sure." He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes searching hers and asking if she understood.

Molly nodded and finally smiled. She leaned upward and caught his lips for a moment. "Bye bye," she whispered.

The corner of Sherlock's lips curled up in an affectionate smile and he finally stepped away, walking over toward the car that was waiting for them. Mycroft joined him and they both passed Anthea as they neared the door. Anthea handed Mycroft a briefcase and gave him an almost imperceptible smile.

"Safe journey, sir," she said softly.

"Yes, thank you, Anthea," Mycroft replied. But when he took the case…Sherlock very clearly saw their hands linger together and Mycroft's thumb move very quickly over the top of Anthea's hand, giving it a brief caress.

As she walked away, Sherlock chuckled and gave his brother a haughty look. "Won't Mummy be pleased," he mimicked.

Mycroft sneered at his brother as they climbed into the car. "Oh shut up!"

* * *

The hours and days ticked by slowly after Sherlock and Mycroft left. All Molly could think about was where they were and what was happening. But she knew Sherlock when he was working. She knew that they'd receive few updates, if any. They just needed to wait.

They were all grateful for Scott. He understood nothing of what was really going on, and therefore normal life didn't stop for him. He still needed and wanted to do all the same things that he usually did. That certainly kept them all nice and busy, and the distraction was a welcome one.

Molly spent a lot of time working on the alphabet with Scott; both letter recognition and naming. He was getting there, almost had all the letters completely down now. His colorful collection of wooden letters made it fun for him and he loved to set them out on the floor and "play letters" with Molly. It was bittersweet for her of course. Every time she did something with him, she had a sneaking fear that it could very well be the last time.

She saw it with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes as well. Nobody really came out and said that they were afraid Scott would be gone soon, but they were all thinking it. It weighed heavily on their minds even as they enjoyed spending time with the little boy.

"I don't know, Mary," Molly said with a sigh on the fourth night that Sherlock was gone. "I know it hasn't been that long but…I have a hard time imaging him not being around anymore. Is that crazy? He's not even related to me!" She fell back against her pillow and glanced over to where Scott slept soundly in his playpen as she held her mobile to her ear for the late night chat.

"Molly, of course it's not crazy. You fell in love with Scott. Not in the romantic way, but it's still falling in love. And when that happens, it hurts to imagine being without them. He became a part of your life, and Sherlock's too."

"I hope Sherlock does alright with all this," Molly said, her brow quickly furrowing with worry.

"Sherlock's not losing  _you_ , Molly," Mary said soothingly. "He'll be fine. You'll both be fine because you can take care of each other."

Molly chewed on her lip for a moment. "I hope you're right." She took another deep breath and then glanced at the clock. "I'd better let you go, but I'll be sure to text you if I hear any news. So far I only go that one text yesterday that said, 'Going well so far.'" Molly chuckled.

Mary smiled and shook her head. "Well let us know when you've got more news, and thanks for calling. I was glad to hear your voice. Hope I'll see you back in London soon!"

"Night, Mary," Molly said in an already sleepy voice.

"Night."

Molly set her mobile on the nightstand and sent off her customary goodnight text to Sherlock.

GOODNIGHT SHERLOCK. LOVE YOU. XOXO –MH

She lay back, prepared to nod off, but was surprised a few minutes later when her phone buzzed.

I LOVE YOU TOO. –SH

HI…EVERYTHING STILL GOING OK? –MH

GOING AS PLANNED. MYCROFT INSISTS WE TRY TO GET SOME SLEEP RIGHT NOW, SO WE'RE AT A HOTEL…HE'S SUCH A BABY. –SH

:) WELL YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO HIM. GET SOME REST AND THEN FINISH UP SO YOU CAN COME BACK TO ME…I MISS YOU. –MH

SOON, MOLLY. PERHAPS JUST ANOTHER DAY OR SO. I'LL TELL YOU WHEN WE'RE HEADING HOME. –SH

NIGHT! XOXO –MH

GOODNIGHT. –SH

* * *

It was exactly a day and a half later that Sherlock sent Molly another text and told her that they'd be back that evening. Things had been successful. The threat against Sherringford had been take care of. Mycroft played a vital role, Sherlock had to admit. He had a knack for…changing people's minds. It had been some time since Sherlock had worked side by side with Mycroft on a project like this. He was reminded that he and Mycroft were strikingly similar, and each also powerful in unique ways. Together, they were almost unbeatable. It made him almost sorry that Mycroft insisted on continuing in that minor position in government.

Molly was there of course, running to him instantly when the car pulled up and he stepped out. Sherlock caught her in the almost aggressive embrace and buried his face in her neck. She really did feel like coming home, and it almost made him feel like their worries and cares were over…almost.

"Look who's back!" Mrs. Holmes said happily as she came over, Scott toddling along beside her.

"Clock! Clock!" Scott said excitedly and ran the rest of the way till Sherlock stooped to lift him up.

"Well hello there, Scott! Did you miss me?" Sherlock asked, peering into those eerily similar, bright blue green eyes.

"Ya! Miss you," he answered and laid his little head down on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Perhaps we should all go inside," Mycroft said, breaking up the little welcome party at the gate. "I believe there's a number of things that need to be discussed."

The Holmes parents agreed and everyone was ushered in with the promise of tea and biscuits.

Molly took Scott from Sherlock's arms though, explaining as she did. "He really needs a fresh nappy. I was just about to do it before you arrived. Why don't I just pop upstairs and I'll come right back."

"I'll come with you," Sherlock answered quickly. He wanted a moment to talk with Molly alone. He didn't want to have this particular discussion with the entire family group.

The two of them excused themselves and went upstairs with Scott. Molly laid him on the bed, which didn't actually succeed in making him lie still. Sherlock watched as she laughed and tried to chase Scott around the bed for a moment before he finally gave in and let her change him, giggling because of the occasional tickles that Molly gave him along the way.

Eventually, Molly looked up at Sherlock who was staring silently at them, looking rather forlorn. Her face fell in turn.

"Sherlock, what is it?" she asked while standing Scott up to give his trousers a tug around his waist before taking care of the soiled nappy and cleaning her hands. "I thought things went well."

"They did," he answered softly. "But I think you need to understand something now."

Molly felt that sick dread returning to her stomach as she looking into his stormy eyes. "I'm listening," she said, sitting on the bed and letting Scott down to go for some of his toys in a nearby basket.

Sherlock sat down next to her, looking more tired than she'd noticed before. He reached over and took her hand, seeming to examine it for a moment before speaking again.

"Molly." He looked up at her. "You know that Scott has to go back to Sherringford and Maria now."

Molly let out a short laugh. "Of course, Sherlock. How could I not know that?"

"Yes, but, Molly…after he leaves..." He shook his head sadly for a moment before going on. "We can't see him again."

Molly's brow slowly wrinkled in confusion. "You mean…at all? But…why? Where are they going to live?"

"I don't know. At least not yet. Mycroft hasn't shared that with me."

Molly glanced over at Scott who was making a sloppy attempt at building a tower on the floor, and she felt her chest begin to tighten. "I- I don't understand. Is it some kind of a secret? Why hasn't Mycroft even told you where they'll be?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair, simply to give them something to do.

"Molly, Sherringford is still a wanted criminal according to the British government. Mycroft carefully orchestrated his escape and life under a false identity all those years ago…but that means he can  _never_  be found alive again. He would be put in prison for a very long time; separated from both his wife and son. There can be no chance of that. They have to be far away; far from any chance of being found."

Molly nodded, thinking this over as she chewed on a nail. "Right…I see. Of course," she finally said.

"I just thought that perhaps…it was better coming from me." Sherlock peered at her, trying to get a feel for how she was truly taking the news. "Mycroft's likely breaking the news to my parents as we speak."

"Your poor parents," Molly uttered in a broken voice, allowing some emotion to show through.

Sherlock squeezed her hand tighter. "I'm sorry," he said very seriously.

Molly smiled and shook her head. "Don't be silly, don't worry about me. I told you before, I just want what's best for them. I couldn't be happier that they'll be a family again. How many people get a gift like that once they've lost each other?"

Sherlock nodded slowly, but was humbled at the depth of Molly's compassion.

"Why don't we take Scott downstairs now," she said with another smile and went to go pick up Scott.

"Molly," Sherlock added, making her turn. "The plan was to return Scott to my brother as soon as possible…tomorrow actually."

Molly hesitated for just a split second but then smiled again. "Of course. They want to see him as soon as they can, I'm sure!" She picked Scott up and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go have some biscuits now, hm?"

Sherlock frowned to himself for a moment before standing from the bed and following her downstairs. The whole conversation didn't go at all as he imagined it would. If he knew Molly Hooper at all, he was almost positive that she was affected more than she was letting on.

* * *

Molly looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was past three in the morning and she was unsure if she'd even had a full half hour of sleep so far. She glanced over beside her to where Sherlock lay. He'd fallen asleep on the bed with Scott some hours before and Molly had moved Scott into his playpen, not wanting to disturb the poor man who had probably been unable to fully rest for many days while away with Mycroft.

Molly sat up carefully and very gently got out of the bed, attempting to avoid creaking of the mattress and floor. She crept over across the room to where Scott's playpen was and peered over the edge. The moonlight that filtered in through the blinds made him look like a little sleeping angel. She was reminded of the time that Sherlock had stood in his moonlit room and so desperately clutched Scott to his chest after his brush with death.

Molly very suddenly had to clasp a hand over her mouth; emotion rolling over her like a violent wave. She tightly clamped her eyes shut, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to will the tears back inside the ducts. She opened her eyes again, the tears clouding her eyes and vision of the little boy blurring below her. How fitting, she thought sadly. He's fading already. The tremors of silent sobs began to shake her petite form and she gripped the edge of the playpen with one hand as she wiped at her eyes with the other. She didn't even notice the noise behind her.

Molly was only startled for a split second when she felt strong arms slide around her middle and a firm body settle against her back. She let out a shaky sigh and leaned back against Sherlock while gripping his arms as tightly as her fingers could. She was now overwhelmed with guilt as well as grief. She wanted to be strong and focus on doing what was right, and she felt awful for breaking down like this.

"I'm sorry," she gulped out as quietly as possible.

"For what?" he murmured against her hair.

Molly sniffled and exhaled heavily. "I'm being selfish," she finally said, hating even the sound of the words.

Sherlock let out one low chuckle. "You're the least selfish person I know, Molly," he whispered.

She shook her head against his chest. "Then how can I be sad? I shouldn't be. I know what this means. I know how precious it is to be given a life with your mother and father after it was taken from you. Nobody ever gets that chance! And I love Scott, I do! So how can I be anything but happy for him?" Fresh tears fell, though she felt a bit of calm settle over her as she was able to literally lean on Sherlock for support.

He was quiet for a moment, just holding her very tightly and not saying anything. Molly wondered at first if Sherlock simply didn't know what to say or how to help. But soon after, she realized that wasn't all that was going on. Sherlock leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to the side of her face. When he did, she felt warm dampness on her skin…tears.

Sherlock's voice was low and serious, with barely any detectable tremor; managing to hide the sound, if not the feel, of his tears. He simply said, "I'm going to miss him too."

Molly renewed her grasp on his arms and snuggled closer against him, both of them wanting nothing more than to hold to each other tight and fast. It was the only thing that felt so right. They couldn't imagine letting go.

Letting go was exactly what they were both dreading.


	12. Chapter 12

"Mumma! Dadda!" Scott said excitedly once again as he pointed out the window.

"Yes, darling, that's right!" Mrs. Holmes said with a smile. "But we have to finish getting you packed, don't we? You can't go see Mummy and Daddy till you're all ready and uncle Mike is here with the car."

Scott toddled around happily chattering to himself and looking especially bright eyed. He'd been told the news this morning. He understood little else, but there really weren't any other details that mattered to him anyway. He was going to see his parents…that was all he knew, and all he needed to know. His excitement was evident to everyone in the house, and of course, the rest of them did their very best to be just as cheery as him.

"Did you get everything upstairs?" Mrs. Holmes yelled up the stairs to her husband.

"It's all down there already!"

Mrs. Holmes shook her head at Molly. "He's probably forgotten something. I don't know why I bother asking!"

Molly smiled back and then nearly ran into Sherlock in the hallway. "Are you ready?" she asked, giving his face a little caress. Sherlock had actually volunteered to go with Mycroft and Scott for the drop off. Everyone's goal was to keep Scott as happy and comfortable as possible, and it seemed logical to keep someone with him at all times who was close to him. Sherlock was quick to offer. It put everyone's mind at ease, knowing that Scott would have "Uncle Clock" along with him. And it made sense, seeing as it was their brother they'd be off to meet.

"I think so. Not really packing much though. I'll likely be back in a day or less. That's the beauty of traveling by private jet!" Sherlock paused and examined her face, dropping his voice as he spoke again. "Are you alright?"

Molly nodded. "I am, really. It's hard but…I am."

They looked over in the living room and saw Sherlock's father had come downstairs and was sitting on the couch reading one of Scott's books to him, passing the time before his departure.

"I hope they'll be ok," Molly said softly. "They're going to lose another Holmes boy today. How many times will they have to endure that?"

"Oh, they'll be fine," Sherlock said confidently. "They still have me and Mycroft to fuss over. Perhaps I'll even let them read me a book once in a while."

Molly swatted at his chest and gave him a disapproving but amused look. "You want some coffee before you go? I'll make some." But as she spoke, Sherlock took out his mobile from his pocket.

He looked at her, his expression serious. "It seems Mycroft will be here with the car in fifteen minutes."

Molly swallowed hard and nodded bravely. "Ok, well…we'd better make sure he's ready to go then."

Scott played in the front yard, chasing little crickets that he saw jumping, as everyone else made sure he would be ready when the car arrived. When Molly stepped outside and saw him hopping around in the grass that came up to his knees, she felt that lump in her throat again; the one that had been an almost permanent resident for the past week. Oh, but he was so precious. It made her wonder how strong a parent's love for their own child must feel. This was already all encompassing, and it was mind boggling to imagine anything stronger than this. She glanced over at the house and saw Sherlock standing at the window. He was also staring at Scott.

A moment later, the car pulled up, just as expected. And it was time.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes held Scott, each in turn, snuggling him and telling him how much they loved him. It was all Molly could do not to cry; just watching them say their goodbyes. But she was determined to remain strong through all this. This could be nothing but a happy send off, for Scott's sake. No reason to burden him with the downside of all this. Eventually, he would surely miss all the faces he was about to leave, but that shouldn't taint the joy of this day for him.

Mrs. Holmes walked Scott over to Molly and handed him to her. As she did, she gave Molly a very motherly smile; a smile of understanding.

Molly took Scott into her arms and gave him a wide grin. "You're going on a plane! Isn't that exciting?!"

Scott pointed his little arm up to the sky.

"That's right! You'll fly high up in the air! And when you come down on the ground, who'll be there?"

"Mumma! Dadda!" Scott answered excitedly, giving his hands a little clap as well.

"Yes! You'll see Mummy and Daddy, and I'm so happy for you!" Molly said, leaning forward and touching her nose to his for a moment. Scott responded by grasping her face in his stubby little hands and holding her close. Molly closed her eyes tightly, very carefully trying not to get too emotional. She pulled back and smiled again. "Can I have a bye bye hug, Scott?"

Scott dove forward and wrapped his arms around her neck as he rested his head on her shoulder for a moment. Molly made eye contact with Sherlock who was standing by the car, and she felt tears escape and slide down her cheek a she enjoyed the sweet warm weight of the little boy on her shoulder for the last time. She quickly swiped at her eyes and face before Scott could let go.

Molly walked over to the car as Scott released his grasp, but he wasn't quite through of course.

"Buh bye kiss, Olly!" he prompted, and leaned in to give her a loud smack on the cheek.

"Bye bye, darling," Molly whispered sweetly. "Olly loves you very much, ok?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek as well, and then leaned into the car to set him in his seat. She stood and sighed heavily as Sherlock buckled him in.

"Well, I think that's about it," Sherlock announced. "We'd better be off."

Suddenly, Molly jumped. "Oh! Oh my goodness! I think we forgot something! Wait just a moment, I'll be right back!" She ran back into the house before anyone could even ask what she was after.

A minute later, she came running out again and back to the car…with Scott's family book in hand. She leaned back into the car and handed it to him, which made him smile.

"Don't you forget us Scott, ok?" Molly said, now out of breath and having a much more difficult time controlling the tremor in her voice. "Never forget any of us." She kissed him one more time, smoothing his soft curls as she did. "Love you, baby."

Before she could hesitate again, Molly stood up and shut the car door, waving to Scott as he happily waved to all of them through the window.

Sherlock strolled over to Molly and gave her a little kiss, leaning his forehead on hers for a moment as he pulled away. "He'll be fine," Sherlock whispered soothingly.

Molly nodded. "I know," she agreed, though she wasn't really worried about how Scott would be. It was the rest of them who would be a mess without him. "Make sure your brother and his wife get the book, ok?"

"Of course," Sherlock said with a smile. He let go and made his way to the car, waving to his parents as well.

"Text me," Molly called after him.

"I will."

Both Sherlock and Mycroft got in the car, started the engine, and a moment later they drove away.

Molly stood there with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes whose hands were tightly clasped together as they watched their only grandson leave their sight…possibly forever. She looked over at them, her own tears now falling freely, and she took Mrs. Holmes other hand. The older woman looked at her and smiled with gratitude.

"How do you do it?" Molly breathed out. "How do find the strength to let them go?" The Holmes parents had done it before, more than once. And with the life they all led, it was certainly possibly this wouldn't be the last time.

Mrs. Holmes turned to Molly, and the corner of her lips lifted in that half smile that had so clearly been passed on from mother to son. She had tears in her eyes, but in the future, Molly would recall that she'd never seen the older woman look stronger.

"Ah, you see…that's the secret," she said to Molly. Her voice was firm and clear. "You never do." She reached up and tapped at the left side of her chest. "They  _never_ leave here."

Molly smiled and nodded, her lip still quivering even as she marveled at the strength and resilience of this family. She hugged Mrs. Holmes tightly, both of them giving and receiving much needed comfort and support.

As Molly walked back into the house, knowing it was time to pack her own things and head back to her normal life in London, she wondered if the worst was now over…or if normal life would prove to be the greatest struggle of all.

* * *

Molly came home to her flat, and found that it was painfully quiet. She tried to busy herself tending to Toby but he was hardly happy to see her. He always went through a brief petulant period of anger if he'd been left for more than a day or two. He was clearly not pleased that someone from Sherlock's homeless network had been the one to stop by and feed him for the past few days. She knew he'd probably come around again by this evening. But it wasn't soon enough for her at the moment. Molly just needed...someone.

She unpacked and cleaned and did some laundry for the upcoming days of work. She even made a meal, enough for that night and leftovers for a couple of days. It was still relatively early when that was done, so she threw together some fairy cakes…just for fun. It was a shame she wasn't hungry in the slightest after all was said and done.

As she was doing dishes from her marathon cooking project, she heard her phone chime in her bag. She froze for a moment, almost afraid to check it. But finally she took a deep breath, dried her hands, and went to retrieve her mobile and give it a peek. She was right to be hesitant, because emotions burst free almost the second she opened Sherlock's text.

The first thing she saw was a picture of Maria holding Scott with Sherringford's arms wrapped around them both. Both adults clearly still had tears in their eyes but were also smiling widely into the mobile camera. Molly couldn't even make it to the nearest chair. She slowly sank to the floor; tears of relief and joy, and also a bit of grief, flooding her eyes. She managed to clear her tears a bit and read Sherlock's accompanying.

SCOTT IS SAFE AND WELL AND WITH HIS PARENTS. HE'S HOME. -SH

"He's home," Molly repeated to herself in a whisper. She smiled, despite the fact that another little sob also made its way out. With shaky hands, she managed to reply to Sherlock.

I'M SO GLAD. :') GIVE THEM ALL MY LOVE, AND PLEASE GET HOME SAFE! -Mx

Thankfully, Toby chose this moment to care about his mistress' well-being again. He trotted over and head butted her leg, meowing softly and then hopping on her lap. Molly sniffled as she scratched his head and snuggled him. She was glad to have him in that moment, but unfortunately she couldn't help but think about how different this was to the feeling of a little person sitting on her lap. It just wasn't the same. She wondered if she'd ever get to have that sort of experience again. And it wasn't just Scott she was missing.

Molly just wanted Sherlock. She wanted him so badly in that moment. She just needed to lean on him and feel his arms around her and enjoy saying nothing at all while just soaking up his solid strength. She just needed the man she loved.

* * *

A day went by. It was evening when Sherlock sent those texts, which meant it's possible they stayed over wherever they were. Perhaps he wasn't traveling back till the following day. But that night, Molly heard a text come in.

HOME SAFE. -SH

She breathed a sigh of relief. That was her biggest concern by that time, now that Scott was safe and happy. She fired off a reply.

I COULD COME OVER IF YOU'D LIKE… -Mx

A BIT TIRED. WILL PROBABLY SLEEP FOR A WHILE. -SH

OK. TALK TO YOU LATER. -Mx

Another day went by. Molly had her second full day at Bart's and came home and hadn't heard from Sherlock again. She knew they were safe now, but she began to worry about how the trip in general had gone. What if there was something Sherlock was afraid to tell her? She opted to text Anthea, not wanting to contact the Holmes parents and worry them unnecessarily. It was practically the same thing as contacting Mycroft himself...and Anthea was always speedy to reply. Sure enough, Molly got an answer in less than two minutes.

HI! HATE TO BE A BOTHER, BUT DO YOU KNOW IF EVERYTHING WENT OK WITH MYCROFT AND SHERLOCK'S TRIP? -MH

EVENING, MOLLY. YES, EVERYTHING WENT FINE. MYCROFT BRIEFED ME ONCE HE WAS BACK AND THERE WERE NO PROBLEMS AT ALL. -A

OK THANKS! -MH

Molly set her mobile down and frowned to herself. She knew Sherlock, and was familiar with how he could tend to hide away from the world at times. But this seemed like such a different situation to her. And she couldn't imagine him not wanting to see her right away and perhaps tell her everything himself. A new sort of worry began to set in.

She glanced at her watch, seeing that it was already half past nine. She had work again in the morning, so decided to just be patient and give him till after her shift the next day. That was perfectly reasonable.

But reasonableness went out the window by late afternoon that following day. Because by the end of Molly's shift, she still had not heard from Sherlock. That was when she decided it was time to simply pay a visit to Baker St. She couldn't possibly exercise any more patience than she already had.

Molly knocked on Sherlock's door twenty minutes later and immediately heard his long strides coming to answer. The door swung open and there he was. The moment their eyes met, Molly could sense a discomfort in him. The look of,  _not good?_

"Molly...hello."

"Hi." She looked around for a moment, waiting for an invite inside.

Finally he stepped to the side, wordlessly allowing her entrance. "Unfortunately I have a client coming in just a few minutes," Sherlock added as he shut the door.

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed. "Um, sorry, I didn't realize. I just wanted to see you because...well, we haven't talked since that text a couple days ago," she said, nervously toying with her hair. "But it seemed like everything went really well."

Sherlock stuck his hands in his pockets and gave her a little smile. "Very well, yes. They're all settled now and very grateful...and happy of course."

"Of course!"

There was a brief silence and Molly glanced around the room. Her gaze fell on a bag near the door. She could see that it contained a few odd toys that had been left behind. Not favorites of Scott's, so they hadn't been payed attention to during the commotion of packing.

Sherlock saw her eyeing the bag and spoke up before she had the chance. "I plan to give those to my homeless network. There's a few families whose children could use them."

Molly nodded and smiled. "That's nice."

Another silence followed and Molly was horrified to realize that she wasn't sure what to say to Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,  _her boyfriend..._ and she couldn't think what to say. She had been so desperate to see him, and yet this wasn't how she imagined them being reunited after his return. What was almost more frightening was that he seemed to be experiencing the very same thing. She had been so sure, he had made her so sure, and yet now Molly was beginning to doubt again...was Scott truly the basis of the relationship they'd built those weeks ago?

"Well, I should probably go. I um, didn't realize you'd be so busy once you got back," Molly said with a little nervous chuckle.

"Yes, sorry about that," Sherlock said quickly. "I just fell into some cases as soon as I was back in the city...figured it couldn't hurt to get back to work without delay."

"Right, of course," Molly agreed. "Always good to stay busy. I'm back to work as well."

She made her way to the door and didn't catch the look of hesitance on Sherlock's face. He followed her and held the door, giving her a half smile when she turned again.

"I'll see you soon?" He was asking, as if he was unsure.

"Of course," Molly said softly. "Just um, text me or something." She smiled again and leaned in, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Something just felt off though, and even kissing him wasn't quite the same at the moment.

They parted with affectionate smiles, but both were left feeling like something was missing. It was equally disturbing to both parties, because they were pretty sure they knew exactly what it was. Or rather...who it was.


	13. Chapter 13

"Do you mind, Molly? Sorry, I know you're not on shift right now," Greg said over the phone.

"No, that's fine, Greg. I don't mind at all." Even as she spoke, Molly got up and put on her coat. She certainly wasn't sorry for something extra to occupy her. It had been a few days since her awkward encounter with Sherlock, and all she'd gotten was one text since then. It was simply to inform her that he'd found a jumper of hers at Baker St. and did she want it back? She really couldn't even think of what to say except,  _I'll get it when I see you next_. And that was the end of the exchange.

"That's great, Molly, thanks. I really appreciate it. I've already sent Sherlock a text as well, so hopefully he can make it to the scene."

Molly's heart was suddenly in her throat. "Oh, um…good. Yeah, always best to have him on hand."

She hung up from talking to Greg and quickly got out of her flat, thinking about facing Sherlock again all the way to the address she'd been given. She hated being away from him, but was also just as afraid to face him. Her fear was that they were at a point: a make it or break it point. Perhaps this was the upheaval Sherlock needed to make him realize that a drastic change in his life was exactly what he didn't need or want. She didn't want to push him, because goodness knows that would probably only serve to annoy him. He probably needed to think, to process, to collect himself after this whole experience. And yet, she deserved to know one way or the other, but a greater part of her was simply cowardly.

Molly's cab pulled up to the address and she walked round the corner to the blocked off crime scene. The first thing she saw was the swooshing of Sherlock's long dark coat as he circled around the face down body in the alley.

"Hey, Molly, thanks again for coming," Greg said, greeting her as she approached.

"It's fine," she said with a smile, and then made awkwardly brief eye contact with Sherlock. "Hi."

"Hello, Molly," Sherlock said, his voice deep and soft, though he also looked away quickly and turned his attention back to the body on the ground.

Molly crouched down as she pulled some gloves on. She reached in and pulled the man's collar and coat aside. "It um…looks like asphyx-"

"Asphyxiation," Sherlock finished along with her, which prompted another little glance between the two.

"The marks on his neck look like that, but I'll have to get him into Bart's to tell you for sure," Molly said, looking up at Greg.

"Do you mind taking it on?" Greg asked, running a hand along the back of his neck. "I don't know about an intern for this one."

"Sure, of course," Molly agreed and stood up. "I can do the post mortem and hopefully get some lab results for you as well."

"You'll go with her and just text me later, right, Sherlock?" Greg asked casually. He was taken aback by the deer in the headlights look on both their faces. "It's just…you usually like to help out, so I just thought…"

"It's a three, at best," Sherlock spat out automatically. "And I've already committed the crime scene to memory."

"Oh," Greg said with a nod. "No problem, I can just have Molly send me the results."

"Sure," Molly squeaked out, and Sherlock was already walking off and heading around the corner.

"Hey uh," Greg began hesitantly. "Everything ok with you two? I thought you were um…you know…together."

"Well, we were- I mean we are, I think…well, actually I'm not really sure right now." Molly shifted her feet nervously.

Greg gave Molly a pat on the arm and a warm smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll work it out. Just have to be patient I suppose. He is Sherlock, after all!" He winked and walked off to answer a call on his mobile.

"Yeah, he is," Molly whispered to herself, wondering if that was the one thing the man himself would never be able to get past.

* * *

Sherlock took long strides down the hallway of Bart's as he clenched his fists at his sides. He hadn't anticipated being at such a loss since returning to London. This was his life, this was how things had always been…why was it so difficult to settle in? And why, in particular, was it so very difficult to return to normal with Molly?

In one of his clenched fists was her jumper that he'd sent her a text about. It made sense to bring it by, he thought. She had said she'd get it the next time she saw him. He winced at the realization that he hadn't seen her since then and didn't need anyone to tell him how not good that likely was. But she seemed to need space as well, if he were reading her correctly. He realized his critical error though the moment he'd stepped foot back into his flat after meeting Lestrade: there was the jumper lying on his chair where he'd left it. He rolled his eyes at himself as it dawned on him that this was the opportunity he should be using…low scoring case or not!

Sherlock knew that Molly would be doing the post mortem first, before the lab work, so he went right to the morgue. When he walked in, he saw the obvious look of surprise on her face.

"Thought I might as well stop by and bring this for you," he said rapid fire as he stepped over toward where she was working, elbow deep in a dead man's innards.

"Oh," Molly said with a nod and continued confused expression. "Thanks."

Sherlock took another step forward till he was on the other side of the table and his arm shot out, offering the garment to her. Molly frowned and glanced from her bloody glove covered hands back to him. Sherlock's eyes followed hers and finally the obvious occurred to him.

"Right, yes…probably shouldn't take it now." His arm lowered to his side. "I'll set it over there perhaps."

"Sure, that's fine." Molly continued working again, her eyes and hands focused.

Sherlock couldn't help but notice the sort of exploration she was doing in the man's chest cavity. "Anything of interest?" he asked, cutting through the silence in the chilly room.

"Mm," Molly mumbled. "It actually seems like he may not have died of asphyxiation. He was strangled, that's certain. But once I opened him up, I see evidence of a heart attack."

Sherlock leaned in a bit, peering in to see for himself. But when she started speaking again, his eyes were back on her.

"And actually, I don't even see enough damage to the windpipe and esophagus so indicate asphyxiation as cause of death, even if there wasn't evidence of the heart attack. So it's a bit difficult to say if the person who strangled him even wanted him dead. They may not have even known that he died. They could have, I don't know, walked off and completely missed his actual collapse!"

Sherlock stared at her, silently taking in her expert deductions.

Molly looked down, becoming self-conscious under his gaze. "Well, anyway, at the very least you're looking for someone who's guilty of a violent crime…even if they weren't out to commit murder."

"Thank you, Molly. That's all very important information," he said in official tone.

"I was just going to send these samples up to the lab as well. I was able to get some possible DNA from under his nails. I guess we'll just have to see what the results are."

"Yes, of course…we'll have to see." Sherlock rocked on his heels for a moment.

Molly's eyes roved nervously and she swallowed thickly. "Did you um, want to wait? I should have the results in less than an hour if I tell them to rush it while I finish up here."

"You seem to have things in hand," he said quickly, with a tight smile. "I certainly hadn't planned to linger here this evening if I'm not needed. Silly to wait around for no reason when you can just text me."

"So…" Molly frowned at him, even more confused now. "You just stopped by to…bring me the jumper then?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together for a moment, realizing how ridiculous he must look. "Right, yes, that was all." The words came out in a jumble. "I suppose my work is done then, and I'll say good evening!" He spun on his heels and flew to the door to let himself out…still clutching that jumper in his hand.

Molly stared at the door for a moment, dumbfounded, then she looked down and again found herself asking a dead man, "What just happened?"

* * *

Molly did her best to relax that night, reading for as long as she could and listening to a radio show. Finally, she felt it was possible she'd be able to put the events of that day and the bizarre behavior of her (hopefully still) boyfriend behind her and get some sleep. She snuggled under her covers and immediately felt Toby circling around her pillow.

"Mummy's got to get some sleep," she grumbled to the inconsiderate feline. She was just about to sit up and try to set him on the floor when Toby jumped down on his own, rushing down the hallway as if on a mission.

Molly breathed a sigh of relief and was about to close her eyes when she realized there must have been a reason Toby jumped down like that. She heard a noise coming from her living room window. She barely had time to think about getting up before she heard a loud thud and subsequent heavy footsteps marching down the hallway. Just as she was swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the pepper spray on her nightstand, the light was switched on and through her momentary blindness, she managed to make out that it was Sherlock standing in her doorway.

"My God, Sherlock! What are you doing here?!" Molly demanded, shielding and rubbing her eyes. As she managed to pry her eyes open again, she could see him fling his coat off onto her little chair and begin pacing at the end of her bed.

"I had to come! This couldn't wait!" he announced.

"Why? What's going on? Is something wrong?" Molly asked quickly, throwing the covers off.

"Yes! Everything! Everything's wrong!" Sherlock proclaimed dramatically while raking his hands through his hair.

Molly took a good look at him and began to realize that this wasn't some sort of actual physical emergency that drove him to her flat tonight. It was clearly an emotional one, and she was pretty sure she knew exactly how he was feeling.

"Tell me," Molly said, now more softly.

Sherlock stopped pacing and stood facing her at the end of her bed. "Everything just  _feels_ different now. I've been doing what I always do and life is back to normal…even with you today. Police work, post mortems, lab work…but it's not the same, and-" He paused, looking uncomfortable before meeting her eyes again. "And I'm sorry."

Molly frowned a little. "Oh. Well, what are you sorry for? Did you do something wrong?"

Sherlock paused again and looked a little befuddled. "Well, no…I mean, perhaps. But- isn't this what I'm supposed to do? Say I'm sorry?!" he asked, completely thrown by the question. "Things are different and they're not right…with us! I didn't want that to happen!"

Molly quickly scooted over to the end of her bed and got up on her knees so she was at his level. Before he could say anything else, she cradled his face and pressed her lips to his. It took a moment, but eventually she felt him relax and begin kissing her in return, his hands coming up to rest lightly on her hips.

Molly pulled away and looked into his affectionate, but still troubled gaze. She gave him a small smile and sniffed away a bit of moisture gathering in her own eyes. "I don't think you really did anything wrong, Sherlock. Neither of us did. I think we just…didn't know what to do. I know I've been feeling a bit like I'm in an alternate universe since coming back to London. It's just…"

"Different," Sherlock finished softly.

Molly nodded. "I just…I got a bit nervous when I realized you were back in London and you hadn't wanted to spend time with me."

Sherlock sighed, frustrated with himself. "I threw myself into work, like I usually do. It seemed to make sense. I just wanted to stay busy and not think about…everything." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "And I knew you were hurting. But I didn't know what to say or do. I thought perhaps there was no way to fix it. It was done and he- Scott…was gone. What could I do to change that for you? It was just me now and I wondered…" He stopped and pressed his lips together.

Molly searched his face. "Wondered what?"

Sherlock swallowed thickly and unknowingly gave her the puppy dog eyes that she couldn't possibly resist. "I wondered if I was enough."

Molly's jaw dropped a little and her eyes filled again. "Sherlock," she murmured in shock. "You're  _more_  than enough! I loved you long before I ever knew that there was a little person named Scott Holmes. And I'll keep loving you now that he's not with us anymore. He may have taught me to love new things about you, but that didn't leave with him." Molly took a deep breath and licked her lips. "I suppose I had my own fears, though," she confessed.

Sherlock tipped his head inquisitively.

Molly bravely opened her mouth again. "Well I just wondered if…now that Scott's gone…that maybe you'd realize you were better off keeping your life like it was before all of this. And that maybe…you would realize you don't really need me anymore."

Sherlock's brow furrowed and his eyes burned brighter as he gently grasped her face with both hands and spoke with intensity. "Molly Hooper, for a million reasons, big and small, I can promise you that I will  _always_ need you. And the biggest of those reasons has nothing to do with anything I might need your help with. It's because I love you."

Molly gave him a watery smile and took a deep cleansing breath. "I love you too, so much." She let out a little laugh. "I'm glad you broke in."

Sherlock chuckled as well. "Seemed like the right thing to do. I suppose it's what I'm used to after all these years."

Molly grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Me too. Although I think it's a lot more fun than all those times in the past. I never used to be able to do this." She pulled him close, initiating a kiss that spoke just as loudly as all the words they'd both just exchanged. Sherlock's hands returned to her middle and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, more sure than ever that he never wanted to let go.

Molly pulled away slowly, though she fully intended to return to kissing him in a moment. "So, what do you think?" she whispered. "Should we try this whole…relationship thing again? But…just us this time."

Sherlock smiled in agreement. "Just us," he said, soft spoken against her mouth as he leaned in again, holding her closer, realizing this was exactly where he always should be...and all he really ever needed.


	14. Chapter 14

"Darling, we've really got to go," Mary urged Lizzie as the little girl wandered back over to where Sherlock and Molly sat in front of the laptop.

"But, Mummy, I want to talk to him," she said, peering between Sherlock and Molly and waving again.

"You did talk to him. You had a lovely conversation for the past ten minutes straight!" John said with a laugh and picked her up. "But it's time to go home now, ok?"

"Ok," she said sadly, but put on a smile and said goodbye toward the laptop while blowing a little kiss.

Mary came over and kissed Molly on the cheek. "Talk to you soon, love. Thanks again, both of you. Though, Sherlock, I know this dinner wasn't exactly your doing." She gave him a playful shove.

"I didn't complain about it!" Sherlock huffed.

"Bye! See you later!" Molly called to the family of three as made their way out of the flat. Then she turned back to the laptop. "Did you like seeing, Lizzie?"

The little curly head had turned away, talking to his parents, but then he was reminded by one of them that Aunty Olly was saying something. Scott turned and looked back into the webcam. "Yeah, I did," he said with a grin. "She's nice!"

"And we wanted to hear about school," Molly went on. "Didn't you just start Kindergarten?"

"Last week!" Scott announced happily. "I like it!"

"You're probably the smartest one in the class, so you'll need to be patient with the other children," Sherlock said, completely seriously.

"Sherlock!" Molly chided him, giving him a whack on the leg. She looked at Scott again. "It doesn't matter who's smarter, don't listen to your uncle. You just be nice to all the other children, ok?"

"Did you get the chemistry set I had Mycroft sent?" Sherlock asked.

Scott nodded. "I did, but Mummy and Daddy say I have to be a bit older."

Sherlock snorted out a laugh. "I was younger than you when I started working with chemicals!"

"It's ok, Scott," Molly jumped in again. "I'm sure you'll get to use it soon. Oh, and did you get the new pictures?"

Scott reached over and excitedly opened his Family Book to show it through the web cam. He turned to the new picture of Lizzie and of the whole Watson family that Uncle Mycroft had sent. As he did, Molly caught a glimpse of her and Sherlock's wedding picture from almost three years ago. She smiled into the webcam.

"Those are lovely! Look how big you and Lizzie are getting, hm? You're like a little man now!"

Scott turned from the camera, listening to something his parents were saying. He nodded and looked back at Sherlock and Molly. "And guess what? Guess what? Daddy says that when I'm a bit older, I can have a visit. A visit to London to see you and Grandma and Grandpa!"

"How exciting!" Molly exclaimed. "We can't wait for that, can we Sherlock?"

"That is some of the best news I've heard all day, Scott," Sherlock said, giving his nephew a smile. "And I think by then you'll be just about old enough to solve some crimes with me!" He caught some disproving parental looks in the background and cleared his throat. "Or I could always just um…tell you about them."

Scott reached up and scratched his messy head of curls and Molly smiled, thinking that he was such a little Holmes. She and Sherlock had come to treasure these occasional video chats so very much.

"I have to have dinner now," Scott said, with a somewhat glum expression.

"That's ok, we can talk again soon," Molly assured him. "And in another couple of months we'll make make sure that Uncle Mike sends some new pictures. Would you like that?"

"Yeah!" Scott hopped a little in his chair.

"We love you, Scott," Sherlock said, making his wife turn and smile at him.

"Love you!" Scott said in return.

Sherlock and Molly waved to Scott and his parents, now standing behind him, and the call was ended.

Molly sighed contentedly as she leaned back in her chair. "That was lovely. I'm kind of glad they called while the Watsons were here. It was nice for him and Lizzie to get to see each other now that they're a little older and more social."

"Mm," Sherlock said softly, but looked like he was deep in thought.

Molly caressed his cheek, making him look at her again. "What is it? Are you far away somewhere?"

Sherlock chuckled softly as he took hold of Molly's hand from his cheek. "I was just remembering something…something from many years ago. And I was sitting right here at the time, in this very same spot."

"Oh?"

"It was something Mrs. Hudson said, to Mycroft actually. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now…" Sherlock paused, smiling slightly again at the memory. "She said, 'family is all we have in the end.'" He turned and looked at his wife.

"Yeah, I suppose that's true." The corners of Molly's lips curled as she thought about it and she nodded. "I like that."

"And you know, the more I think about it, if family is truly all we have in the end," Sherlock said softly as he slid his hand over to rest on Molly's very rounded pregnant belly, making her smile brightly back at him. "Well then, in the end…we have quite a lot."


End file.
